Thirty Days
by thevoidyouknow
Summary: After being abducted by the League of Villains, Bakugou Katsuki is tormented by nightmares and taunted by voices. It isn't until the retired Number One Hero, All Might, pairs him with Uraraka Ochaco for a month-long class assignment that the dreams and voices slowly begin to subside as their unlikely friendship grows. /Bakugou X Uraraka/Kacchako/Slow burn/Rated M for language/
1. Unlucky

**Thirty Days**

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _Give me all the Kacchako! This fic takes place a few weeks after All Might's retirement. All canon story details after that are pretty much null here.  
This would definitely be considered a slow-burn. Unlikely friendship turned romance. All that sappy shit._

 ** _Disclaimer:_** _I do not own BNHA or any of its characters._

* * *

 _Chapter One: Unlucky._

[Uraraka]

It was still strange, looking at the all-powerful Symbol of Peace in his true, deflated form. So strange in fact, that Uraraka Ochaco found it difficult to focus on what he was saying as he stood in front of class 1-A. His hair was scraggily and flopped forward lifelessly. His clothes didn't fit him right, either. But the strangest part of all was the permanent, toothy frown that adorned his sunken face. It wasn't anything like the All Might she'd seen growing up, or the one who had taught her so many important lessons since she'd been accepted at UA.

Uraraka had never idolized All Might the way Deku had, though. She'd always admired him, of course. She had never met anyone who hadn't. There was no denying his strength and skill. She'd be lying if she said his role in the world of heroes hadn't urged her toward her current path at least a little. She wondered if seeing him this way had put any sort of damper on her friends' spirit…

She let her eyes wander from her teacher to the back of his head, at his puffy green hair, and felt a small smile lift her cheeks.

 _Right._ She reminded herself. It didn't matter what All Might looked like now, he was Deku's hero, and hers, along with so many others, and it didn't diminish his past achievements or his unsurmountable enthusiasm. Suddenly, she felt a little guilty for letting herself get wrapped up in the media—All Might may look different, but he was the same hero he'd always been. Everyone had to retire at some point. And on top of everything, he'd managed to defeat All For One and accept his new role as a full-time teacher at UA with grace and dignity. That was an admirable way to go out as the Number One Hero.

Uraraka felt her eyes wander once more, this time to the figure slumped on his desk in front of Deku, and her smile faltered a bit.

Bakugou hadn't quite been the same since the new semester had started…

She didn't really know much about him other than he could be unforgivably, irrationally heartless—especially when it came to her Deku. But he hadn't had a single outburst since classes had resumed nearly three weeks ago. It was refreshing, but it also made her a little wary. Something was obviously eating at him.

She sighed and shook her head to herself.

There was no reason for her to particularly _care_. She should have been happy at his newfound silence. Everyone else seemed to be for the most part. They had chalked it up to sudden maturity, but Uraraka couldn't buy that. It felt insensitive to simply ignore it.

Bakugou would probably kill her if he could read her thoughts.

But he'd been abducted by _villains_! It was completely different from his encounter with that slime guy… it was scarier than when they'd been attacked at USJ. That had obviously had some sort of impact on him. They wanted to recruit him, they thought he was evil underneath that harsh, explosive exterior. She couldn't even begin to imagine how that must make him feel—

Suddenly, he turned his crimson eyes to face her and she nearly jumped at the suffocating rage that radiated from him. She swallowed hard, and realized, almost everyone in the class had turned to look at her as well.

Uraraka blinked and returned her attention to All Might, who was also staring her down, as if waiting for a response.

She felt the heat rise from her cheeks to her ears and realized that All Might had written multiple names on to board, one below the other in a line of ten. Above the names was a simple title that read: TEAMS, in all capital letters. The tenth name written at the end of the board was hers, and the one scribbled underneath it was…

"Oh." Uraraka said, meeting Bakugou's heavy glare once more.

She was so embarrassed that she thought she might burst into flames at any moment. She almost welcomed that. She'd completely spaced out.

"Uraraka!" All Might called from the front of the room, bursting into his large, familiar form and bowing before reverting to his skeleton figure in a puff of steam, "I leave young Bakugou in your hands!"

Despite her confusion and the eyes of her classmates weighing her down, she stood quickly, nearly knocking her chair over behind her, "O-of course!"

Whatever these teams were for, she'd accept her duty and her teammate with enthusiasm.

* * *

[Bakugou]

"Young heroes, working together is an essential part of your duties, for the tides of battle can be swayed in either opponents' direction by sheer team work!" All Might nearly shouted from the front of the room, "You all got a taste of this during your internships last semester, working with a Pro and acting as their sidekick. For this next step in your basic training, we'll dive even deeper into that facet of hero work!"

Bakugou grumbled to himself. He didn't want to relive a single memory from his internship with Best Jeanist… He practically shivered as he remembered how his hair kept that _stupid_ fucking part for days after that guy had stopped combing it. Aside from that, he didn't like thinking about what would await him once he graduated. Everyone always talked about how they'd have to work as pathetic sidekicks before they could be counted as one of them, while the top heroes got all their glory.

 _He_ wasn't a sidekick. He would never be. He refused.

All Might continued on, "For the next month we'll be splitting into teams of two. One will play the role of a Pro while the other will act as their sidekick. Each of you will be paired with one of your classmates whose abilities we've determined will work well together, of course. But the goal here, young heroes, is for each of you to understand what it means to lead and what it means to follow!" He nodded enthusiastically, pressing both fists to his hips and then turned to the board and started scribbling names as he continued. "Everyone's goal should always be to strive for the top! But each of you will have to work as a sidekick in order to make it there."

Bakugou straightened in his seat. _This_ seemed more up his alley—he'd get to play Pro and show everyone else he was more suited to be Number One than _anyone_ else.

Especially that damn nerd…

He gritted his teeth together and waited impatiently for his teacher to finish writing the names.

"First, in group one, our Pro will be Yoayorozu Momo and her sidekick will be played by young Todoroki!" He announced.

All Might continued, but Bakugou stopped listening—he saw the way the names were arranged on the board and he felt his eye twitch as he realized _his_ name was placed under someone else's. Which would make him a _fucking_ sidekick…

"… And lastly, in group ten, our Pro will be played by Uraraka Ochaco which makes her sidekick, Bakugou Katsuki." All Might nodded again and again, like he was pleased with himself.

The class, who would typically have erupted in some sort of annoying cheer of excitement was uncharacteristically silent. Bakugou felt some eyes on him, but he ignored them as he turned his head just enough to glare back at the girl he'd fought at the sports festival.

It surprised him that she was looking at him too—not with a look of fear or disbelief. Her brow was furrowed in deep contemplation, and something in her eyes made Bakugou want to avert his gaze immediately. Her couldn't guess what she was thinking, but somehow, he knew it wasn't about their pairing. It made him overwhelmingly uncomfortable, like she was trying to peer into him…

It pissed him off.

But it pissed him off even more when he heard All Might shout, "Uraraka! I leave young Bakugou in your hands!"

He scoffed but instead of yelling he just buried his head back into his arms on his desk. It felt like a punishment.

 _Because you were weak_. He told himself, letting his mind fall back to the short time he'd spent with the League of Villains.

 _You let yourself get caught by fucking scum_.

It felt like every time he closed his eyes, he was back in that shitty bar with those assholes, reliving his failure. Reliving the moment when All For One fell, but All Might had fallen too. What kind of victory was that, anyway? If he'd been stronger—if he'd been able to escape, or kill them all where they stood, All Might would still be All Might, that stupid fucking nerd and all those damn extras wouldn't have felt like they had to save him…

 _I don't need saving!_ He roared in his head, digging his nails into his arm, hoping he could draw blood even through the fabric of his uniform.

The screech of a chair behind him broke Bakugou from his thoughts and he turned his head once more to look back at the round-faced girl as she stood and slammed her hands on her desk in a ridiculously overdramatic fashion.

"O-of course!" She replied with a furious nod.

Bakugou nearly groaned.

How unlucky did he have to be to get paired with Deku's stupid fangirl?

* * *

[Uraraka]

That night, once Uraraka made it back to her dorm room and changed out of her uniform, she made time to scold herself for her slipup during class. She didn't usually space out _that_ badly, and she had been overwhelmingly embarrassed asking Ilda and Deku about the assignment after her declaration to All Might.

She needed to stay focused.

Uraraka sighed and fell back onto her bed, staring up at her ceiling.

This was going to be a tough assignment. The teachers had obviously made their decision on who would play the Pro's for this training by picking the weakest of the bunch to lead… Not necessarily the weakest physically, but the ones who typically played background roles. The natural leaders were stuck in the support role, that was the only reasonable explanation she could come up with, anyway. It was the only thing that could truly explain why Todoroki, Deku, Ilda, and _Bakugou_ of all people got put into the sidekick roles.

She frowned. What did this say about _her?_

If they wanted her to play the Pro in this assignment, then she must not have been making enough of an effort to stand up and take the lead. Although, thinking back, that might be true... That realization stung a little. Maybe she'd been focusing too much on supporting those that were clearly above her. Maybe she'd unknowingly stunted her growth as a hero by relying _too_ heavily on her classmates' skills…

Uraraka felt her frown deepen.

No, that couldn't be quite right… Ilda had said this was a test of teamwork. Relying on each other is what made them stronger as a group. And all heroes, even the Pro's, had to rely on their sidekicks and others to do what needed to be done. Which meant that this test was probably meant to just push each of them out of their comfort zones. After all, in a real fight, you never know what could happen. Anyone could be thrust great responsibility at any moment.

She needed to be ready.

With a huff, Uraraka pushed herself from her bed and slipped her feet into her running shoes with renewed vigor.

But her resolve couldn't quite push past one thing… Her partner was Bakugou Katsuki. He wasn't keen on team work or relying on others. He may be strong, but that was a major flaw that couldn't be overlooked. Raw power was all well and good but if you insisted on doing everything on your own, you'd never be able to reach your full potential.

Regardless, if she was going to be a Pro, she needed to be stronger.

She'd worry about Bakugou tomorrow once their training started.

She made her way through the dorm and filled her water bottle in the kitchen before heading back through the common area where Asui and Deku had situated themselves. They didn't seem to notice her as she passed by, they were too busy muttering to each other about different strategies and combos they could do with each of their quirks.

 _Right…_ Uraraka thought, recalling the names All Might had written on the board, _they were partnered up for this too._ She didn't think Froppy had much trouble taking the lead, she was levelheaded and analytical, much like Deku. So maybe they had been partnered up based on their quirks more than anything else.

A strange twist of her stomach forced her through the common room faster. There was something about seeing them so engrossed in one another that stung the tiniest bit, and she needed to get on with her training anyway.

Pushing herself into an eager jog, Uraraka rounded the corner and ran face-first into a wall that hadn't been there before.

Wait…

Uraraka rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and braced herself as she looked up at the crimson eyes of the wall that had blocked her path.

"Watch where you're going, fuck-face!" He shouted. She thought she could almost see the steam rise from his fuming expression.

 _Not a wall…_ She corrected herself. _Just Bakugou._

"Learn how to fucking walk!" He shoved past her and headed for the stairs.

"Wait, Bakugou!" Uraraka followed closely on his heels, "We should talk about this assignment—"

"Don't bother," He practically hissed, "I'm not your sidekick, you got that? I don't give a shit what All Might said. I'm in charge and I don't need you to ace this. So, stop following me, damn it!" He started up the stairs, each step an exaggerated stomp.

She sighed and crossed her arms, watching her new partner's hands crackle with rage as he disappeared to the next floor. She hadn't expected him to be on board, but she had been hoping to at least get a word in. This assignment was going to be even more difficult than she'd previously thought. Especially if he wasn't even going to try and cooperate…

With less enthusiasm than before, she headed outside for an evening run, trying her hardest to think of anything but her temperamental "sidekick".

Suddenly, Uraraka felt extremely unlucky.


	2. Challenger

**Thirty** **Days**

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _So starts day one of thirty on this angsty journey.  
_ _Side question, what're your favorite ships in this anime/manga? My friends and I all have very conflicting opinions..._

 ** _Disclaimer:_** _I don't own BNHA or any of its characters._

* * *

 _Chapter Two: Challenger_

[Day One]

[Bakugou]

There wasn't anything in the world that could scare Bakugou Katsuki away. He didn't shy away from conflict—in fact, _he_ was the one who incited most of the conflict in his life… Even if he'd never admit to that. He preferred to meet everything head on and demolish those who defied him. That was how he functioned. It was how he thrived. It was how he would become the Number One Hero. He didn't have time for anything else.

So, when a wide-eyed Uraraka Ochaco approached him before class the day after he decided he was going to completely ignore her existence, he didn't bother hiding his annoyance. He made a point to make it known. "Get away from me, Round-face." He growled, hoping his glower might be enough to make her go away.

It didn't.

Actually, it didn't seem to have any effect on her at all.

"Good morning, Bakugou!" She beamed.

For a heartbeat, he could only stare back at her. There was something different about her cheery, early-morning enthusiasm. Typically, she would acknowledge anyone she made eye contact with, and she always made a point to greet her friends… But Bakugou didn't fall under either of those categories. So, there was something else going on. He almost opened his mouth to ask what she wanted but decided against it. _I don't care._ It almost certainly had to do with Deku or the ridiculous assignment that had been thrust upon them yesterday. Which meant it wasn't worth his time.

She acted as if the spiky blonde hadn't blatantly ignored her and continued as he bristled. "I came to ask you a favor…" Her smile never faltered. He was becoming more annoyed by the second. What right did she have to float around with that stupid look on her face, anyway?

He scoffed, "Fuck off." And turned his narrowed eyes towards the front of the classroom.

She slammed both her hands onto his desk with reckless abandon, much like she had the day before with All Might and leaned forward, close enough to make Bakugou inch backward an inch, "I won't!" She huffed. The optimism in her face melted into a fierce determination that — _somehow_ —made him hold his tongue long enough for her to keep talking. In another overly dramatic gesture she stuck her pointed finger into his face, only centimeters from his nose, "I challenge you!" She announced, a grin filling her pink cheeks, "Spar with me, Bakugou Katsuki."

Everyone was staring. Waiting for him to explode, no doubt.

In one quick motion, he swatted the girl's hand away from his face with a loud slap that echoed throughout the silent classroom. He wanted to tell her to fuck off again. She had no right to challenge him. He'd already beaten her before, anyway.

But just now… she didn't shrink away when he hit her, she didn't even blink. She calmly placed her hand back on his desk and kept on staring him down. Something about her intense gaze made Bakugou squirm in his seat and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms defiantly. The look on her face alone made him want to accept. It vaguely reminded him of their battle at the sports festival.

His fingers twitched, in anticipation or annoyance, he couldn't tell.

He crossed his arms and replied, "I don't feel like kicking your ass again, Round-face. Get away from me."

She pursed her lips, obviously disappointed, but she didn't move.

For a moment Bakugou thought she'd stand there, defiant and determined, until the end of time. He didn't _hate_ the thought of that.

With the shrill ring of the last bell and the appearance of Eraser Head at the door, he expected her to vanish back to her corner of the classroom.

Knitted chestnut brows and a taunting grin painted her face as she straightened, rolling her shoulders back confidently. "I thought you didn't back away from a challenge." And then she walked past him, quietly greeting Deku before returning to her seat.

She'd said it so quietly that Bakugou might have thought he'd imagined it if it weren't for that fucking look on her face.

 _What the hell?_ He blinked, barely hearing his homeroom teacher as he began lecturing them about something.

 _Seriously… what the fuck was that?!_

Rage bubbled in his stomach, and he rubbed the sweat from his palms against his pants to avoid the temptation to blow his desk out the fucking window. Who did she think she was? Walking over to him like the weird, air-headed girl she was, _challenging him_ , and then looking at him like _that_?

He was Bakugou Katsuki, he _didn't_ run away.

 _What. The. Fuck?!_

"Hey!" He shouted, nearly jumping to his feet and turning to face the anti-gravity girl behind him, "I don't know who you think you are, Uraraka! But I accept your stupid fucking challenge! I'll kill you!"

[Uraraka]

It had taken some thinking, but Uraraka had come up with a plan to get her partners attention. What better way to set him off than to openly challenge him in front of the class? He had too much pride to refuse, and she could only assume that he was especially volatile when it came to her after the announcement of their assignment.

However…

 _"I don't know who you think you are, Uraraka! But I accept your stupid fucking challenge, I'll kill you!"_

She hadn't expected her plan to go quite so well. The scolding she'd surely get from Aizawa-sensei would be worth it.

She smiled to herself as the class continued, somewhat awkwardly, feeling pleased. Just yesterday, she'd been thinking about how quiet Bakugou had been these past few weeks, and although she barely wanted to admit it, it had made her somewhat worried. No matter how brash or downright mean he could be, she was going to have to work with him. And if he wasn't himself, that would make the assignment that much harder. Bakugou was difficult enough as he was, she was happy that some normalcy had emerged from her challenge.

Not to mention… He'd called her Uraraka. That was an unexpected development. It was always "round-face" or some other generic, obscene nickname. Had he ever called her by her name before…?

 _"Right… time to get serious then, Uraraka!"_

"Oh…" She whispered to herself, tapping her pencil against her notebook. She gave a quick glance in his direction and found herself smiling again. _That's right._ During their battle at the sports festival, after he'd bested her trump card, he'd called her by her name before she passed out. At that time, it felt like she'd earned at least a shred of his respect. She supposed that was when he'd earned hers as well. He'd always been strong, and she'd respected his strength prior to their fight… but Bakugou had really given it his all. He didn't pull any punches because he knew he was stronger. He came at her with everything he had because he wanted to win. He hadn't seen her as some weak little girl. He was her opponent, and at least during that time, he'd seen her on an even playing field.

She pursed her lips, deep in thought.

 _That's what it felt like, anyway._

Uraraka wondered what would have happened if she'd been matched up against Ilda or Deku… or _anyone_ else from their class, for that matter. Would they have given it all they had? Or would they have seen her as frail or fragile and acted accordingly? What would _she_ have done?

Her chest tightened when she realized she couldn't be sure.

And even if Bakugou _was_ heartless, she knew she could count on him to treat her as an equal on the field of battle.

Battle…

Right. She was going to have to spar him after this… She'd be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. It was Bakugou, after all. He could be… overbearing. But excitement rose somewhere in her chest and buried her unease. She wanted to get stronger. This was a step in the right direction.

The bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom and Eraser Head headed for the door but stopped before he grabbed the handle, "I almost forget to tell you," He said in his typical monotone voice, "After lunch you'll be meeting in the gym with All Might for training."

Uraraka shuffled her feet, hoping to hide the embarrassment that rose to her cheeks as she stood across from her basic training sparring partner.

 _"Challenging Bakugou is reckless, Uraraka!"_ Ilda had said over lunch, _"Surely you haven't forgotten the sports festival!"_

 _"Kacchan won't go easy on you, you should be careful."_ Deku had added, shoveling a third bowl of rice into his mouth.

When she'd challenged him that morning, she hadn't thought they'd be split into groups for sparring practice after lunch… now she felt unbelievably silly as she stood across from Bakugou Katsuki. The look on his face said he didn't find it funny, though.

"Did you plan this, Round-face?" He grumbled from the other side of the mat.

"Of course not…" She mumbled, crossing her arms with a huff, "A-anyway! This doesn't count as my challenge, you got that?"

"Whatever." He responded, removing his hands from the pockets of his tracksuit, "I'll just kick your ass again later."

After lunch, class 1-A had filed into the gym and All Might had greeted them with his typical enthusiasm that still felt slightly out of place in his deflated form. He informed them that they'd be breaking into their Pro Hero/ Sidekick groups and sparring each other in order to get a feel for their partner's strength and tactics. Quirks weren't allowed in these matches, and every group had their own sparring mat sectioned off in different corners of the gym, so the other groups wouldn't be able to spectate. This had led Uraraka to think they may be fighting each other for this new assignment, but the final would be kept secret until the day came. They were also permitted to use this time to formulate strategies and combos they'd be utilizing at the end of the thirty days. Once their assignment ended, the Pro and the Sidekick would be thrust into an unknown conflict, where they'd have to work together while still falling into their assigned roles. Each student would receive two separate grades; one for their performance in their assigned role, and on their teamwork.

All Might blew his whistle and Bakugou fell into fighting stance immediately.

Uraraka gulped and steadied her feet as she stared back into his heavy, cardinal eyes.

[Bakugou]

Bakugou grunted and heaved himself up, eyeing the sweat that dripped from his brow onto the mat under their feet. It couldn't have been more than five minutes since they'd begun, but his breathing was already labored…

Round-face had refused to give him even a single fucking second to breathe; she just kept coming, like a stupid little _demon_. Even after he'd slammed his fist against her left cheek and knocked her clean off her feet, she'd only shook her head and rolled back into her stance, mumbling something about dodging to herself.

She had yet to land a solid hit on him though, but damn it, she was relentless.

At this rate, she'd wear herself out before she'd be able to back him into a corner.

"Tch." Bakugou shook his head, almost forgetting himself. _Like she could_. _Like I'd let her._ He stared back and found himself scolding her. Her feet were too far apart. Her hands were lower than they had been when they'd begun. She was letting her fatigue show—and her form was lacking because of it. Her defenses were practically nonexistent at this point. It pissed him off. "Idiot!" He shouted, taking advantage of her hesitation as she circled him, stalling to catch her breath.

Bakugou lunged low and tackled her legs, wrapping his arms around her thighs as she fell onto her back with a thud. She twisted away, trying to get her leverage back, but with one swift motion he grabbed one of her outstretched arms and locked his fingers around her wrist, twisting it sharply behind her back. "You're not fast enough, Round-face." He spat, digging his knee into the back of her own, "If you don't take this shit seriously, you're never gonna be a hero! This is pathetic! Don't fucking challenge someone if—"

He stopped when he felt her legs tremble under his weight, and he threw her arm away from him and stood.

"Just get up." He growled, "We're going again."

Uraraka got back to her feet slowly. When she turned to face him, her round face was contorted in tears. But it didn't look like she was in pain. She looked disappointed and frustrated, but most of all… fucking _angry._

 _Good._ He thought, a strange sense of unwarranted pride pulling a grin to his face.

She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand and came to the ready once more with a nod, "Again!"

Bakugou felt his grin grow wider and he charged at her once more.

Ever since his fight with Deku, he tried to make a point to be more unpredictable with his first attack. He'd become too reliant on his heavy right-swing. If that damn nerd could exploit his moves, they weren't good enough. He saw Uraraka's eyes flicker to the right, anticipating his movement, so he pivoted and brought his clenched left fist straight into her abdomen.

She gasped and stumbled back, but as he advanced on her again, there was something fierce in her narrowed eyes; Uraraka ducked, effortlessly dodging his next swing, and brought her own quick right hook towards his jaw, missing just barely as Bakugou leaned forward and shoulder charged into her. He wrapped his arms around her torso and threw her backward over his shoulder.

Once again, she hit the mat with a huff. Bakugou thought he might have even heard _her_ swear under her breath, but he couldn't be sure. That one had to have knocked the wind out of her.

"Oy!" He leaned over her as her chest heaved, "You're leaving your whole body wide-open every fucking time you swing! You're giving me every opening in the fucking book." Bakugou tried to keep his voice even so she wouldn't hear his own labored breathing. She'd been heavier than he'd expected, "Anticipating movements is one thing, but when you fucking ignore all the other shit and get flustered when something doesn't work out, you freeze. Cut it out!"

 _What the fuck am I doing_?

It was like he was _coaching_ her. That wasn't the point of this. He was supposed to beat her ass and make her sorry for thinking, even for a second, that she could challenge him.

But somehow, he knew she was better than the way she was performing now. He'd seen it at the sports festival, he'd seen her after her internship. He'd seen her running every night and sweating up a storm at the gym before class. _That_ girl wasn't this one, and somehow that pissed him off more than anything had managed to in weeks.

Uraraka hauled herself back onto her feet, like his words had reinvigorated her, and jumped from one foot to the other, nodding the whole time. "Alright! Again!"

Her round, amber eyes were so wide with anticipation that Bakugou almost didn't notice the blood smeared in the corner of her mouth.

And so, it continued, one round after the other. Each time Bakugou would take her down, he'd scream about what she did wrong and they'd start again. But each time, she seemed to take his loud advice to heart because she never made the same mistake twice. By the bell, she'd managed to land a pretty decent punch to his face; he could already feel the fat lip forming under his skin. But she'd certainly taken much more of a beating—her left cheek was swollen, and he'd split the skin on that cheekbone, bruises were already showing on her exposed arms, and her hair was practically matted to her head with sweat.

Even so, she was still smiling. Like a fucking weirdo.

The class had been upon them in seconds once the bell rang, _oh-so-fucking_ worried about their precious _Uraraka_.

Bakugou had to push through the crowd they formed around them, ignoring the horrified, wide-eyed stares and each, _"Oh my gosh, Uraraka! Are you okay?!", "Geez, Bakugou just doesn't know how to hold back…", "You should go see Recovery Girl!"_. She'd ran right to that damn nerd, who looked the most worried of them all, all red-faced and cheery, like she didn't look like a fucking disaster. It took all the energy he had left to keep his mouth shut. They'd done this at the sports festival too. They'd doubted her and blamed him, like she was some fucking doll he was going to break.

Honestly, he couldn't wrap his head around it. They were all _supposedly_ there to be heroes. Even the Pros got beat up, if you wanted to make it to the top you had to learn how to take a punch. It didn't matter who your opponent was—it was you or your enemy. It was about survival. That's all there was to it.

"W-wait! Sorry, Deku, one second—wait, Bakugou!"

"Fuck off, Round-face!" He called over his shoulder, pushing the doors to the gym open. His voice didn't sound as menacing as he'd meant it to, but he didn't have time turn around and add something else as someone reached out and slapped his back.

Bakugou's feet lifted from the floor and a pair of surprisingly rough hands twisted him around to face his attacker, her swollen face twisted into another one of those cheeky grins.

"Thanks for today." Uraraka said, her head tilting gently to the side as she held out a hand to him.

His stomach flipped—he didn't like this floating shit. "Real fucking funny," He growled, slapping her hand away, "Now put me down!"

"I mean it!" She huffed as he floated higher.

She reached out again but he could only stare back at her. He'd sooner float to the ceiling and stay there until he starved to death than shake her hand.

A wider, toothy smile filler her cheeks and she pressed her fingers together, returning him to the earth, "Thanks, Bakugou."

Another wave of nausea rolled through him and he turned on his heels toward the locker room.

He did _not_ like that floating shit one bit


	3. Disjointed

**Thirty Days**

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _It is absolutely insane how much shorter these chapters seem when I put them into this site. As of right now I have a solid 41 pages in Word. And it feels like so little. (kill me)._

 ** _Disclaimer:_** _I don't own BNHA or any of its characters._

* * *

 _Chapter Three: Disjointed_

[Day Two]

[Uraraka]

The longer she thought about it, the more Uraraka just couldn't wrap her head around their Pro/ Sidekick assignment. She understood the dynamic of it and its practical application out in the real world… but taking two people and calling one a pro and the other a sidekick didn't sit right with her. Those levels seemed to imply inequality. On top of that, situating someone unsuited for the role of a pro hero on that pedestal and forcing someone much more qualified under them felt ineffective. After all, the pros got to where they were through hard work, raw skill, and the effectiveness of their quirk. While any quirk, no matter how random it seemed could have its own usefulness, some things just _couldn't_ land with that title. And from what she'd come to understand, the pros and sidekicks worked independently of each other, even if they were a part of the same agency, just as often as they worked as a team…

"Maybe that's not right…" She mumbled, pushing her bangs from her forehead with a sigh.

Uraraka took a swig from her water bottle, growing more and more frustrated as her Saturday passed her by. She'd nestled herself in her room, telling herself she just wanted a relaxing day alone… but if she was being honest, she was a little embarrassed at how swollen her face had gotten overnight. She'd denied everyone's invitation to walk her to Recovery Girl after her spar with Bakugou initially, but now she wished she'd just swallowed her pride. She couldn't chew food on that side, and the swelling had made its way under her left eye, which meant that every time she looked in the mirror, she couldn't help but laugh a little, thinking she looked like Bakugou every time his eye twitched.

Absentmindedly, she tapped herself on her shoulder and let her body float away from the cocoon of blankets on her bed as her thoughts drifted.

Her face definitely hurt. She wondered if she was supposed to be upset with her project partner like the rest of her class was. She couldn't dredge up any anger though; every time she thought about their match the day before, she found herself smiling.

He probably hadn't meant to, but Bakugou had given her invaluable advice. She'd learned the basics from Gun Head during her internship, but she hadn't really been able to focus and put it into practice until yesterday. There was still a lot she had to learn, but she was certain that had helped her against him.

Uraraka gently drummed her fingers along her ceiling and let the weightlessness of zero-gravity fill her. She felt free and as she ran her tongue along her swollen gums of her left cheek, she felt powerful.

She almost laughed at herself. _Powerful_. That would sound silly if she said it aloud. She'd lost, by a nearly immeasurable margin, but she'd come out better than she'd been when she started. _And_ she'd landed a punch. She could be satisfied with that for now.

If Bakugou wasn't so angry and hard to work with, she'd consider asking him to spar every day. He wouldn't go easy on her. That's what she needed…

But he'd never agree to something like that.

Three quiet knocks on her door brought Uraraka from her increasingly frequent thoughts of Bakugou Katsuki and she released her quirk before skipping over to answer it.

"Deku!" She gasped. Suddenly remembering the messy state of her room and her unmade bed, she forced herself into the hallway, shutting the door behind her with a nervous laugh. _Ouch_ , she thought, resisting the urge to cup her swollen cheek in her hand. "W-what's up?"

Her heart jumped when he smiled at her, raising his hand in quiet greeting, but worry soaked his eyes when he saw her face, "Hey, Uraraka… I wanted to check up on you. Does… it hurt?"

"Oh," She blinked. This was the first time he'd ventured to her room on his own… her cheeks heated up a little, grateful for his concern, "Oh, no! It's not too bad. It looks worse than it feels, really." She silently cursed herself for not keeping her room clean, she could have invited him in… her face grew warmer at the thought. On second thought, maybe this was better. She didn't want to be a bumbling mess in front of Deku. Who knew how nervous she'd be if they were alone in her _room_ together?

"Kacchan really did go overboard, didn't he?"

Uraraka pursed her lips slightly—hoping he didn't notice her wince—and shook her head, "I don't mind it, really. I was the one that challenged him. Besides, I learned a lot from it." For some reason, she just wanted him to drop it. Everyone was making such a fuss over some bruises… It wasn't like he'd just jumped her and started wailing on her.

"Still," Deku continued, motioning to the bandage she'd pressed over the cut on her cheekbone, "Recovery Girl could have—"

"I'm fine." Her voice was firmer than she'd meant it to be. His heart was in the right place, but Bakugou wasn't out of line, if anything, she appreciated that he'd treated her the same way he would have treated anyone he sparred with. Like she was worthy of the effort. Like she was an equal. "I'm fine, really, everyone can stop worrying!" She added with a smile.

He seemed to understand that she was finished talking about it because he nodded, "I-in that case, Ilda and I were going to get lunch later if you want to come."

Uraraka nodded immediately, although she was still self-conscious about the state of her face and agreed to meet her friends outside the dorms in an hour.

* * *

[Bakugou]

 _The bar was a dump. Creaky, crumbling floorboards stained with what Bakugou could only assume was blood. The lighting was shitty, and it smelled like cheap alcohol, old vomit, and mildew. All he heard was the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears as the hours ticked by. There was a shrinking feeling in his gut when the voices asked him to join them. He wondered if this was the path everyone assumed he'd follow. He felt the fervent, wild sting that thought brought to his chest, and the painful desire to defy it all. He hated it. He hated them. His hands twitched, aching to blow up the entire building and everyone inside it. He'd burn his way out through the rubble if he had to. He'd do anything to tear it all down. To shut them up. To make the cold sweat stop running down his back; to swallow the bitter taste of unfamiliar fear._

 _"Bakugou Katsuki, the wannabe hero… I know this is taking things a little fast, but… What say you become one of us?"_

 _The restraints dug into his shoulders and his abdomen, rubbing the skin raw as he struggled against them. All he could see was their eyes digging into him, peering into his soul. Like they fucking knew him, like they knew everything._

 _"… Ours is a battle of questions. What is a hero? What is justice? Is this society truly just? We'll make everybody question those things, one by one! And we plan to win."_

 _Bakugou stared at that disgusting fucking hand, gripping that guys face. He'd rip it off. He'd replace it with his own and make him shut up. He'd kill him. He'd blow him into a million little pieces._

 _"You… like winning too, right?"_

 _He wasn't afraid of dying. He wasn't afraid of_ them _. He was afraid of the implications—what their invitation meant, what they saw when they looked at him. Would the world want a hero if they saw the heart of villain? Would they look up to figure he'd strike when he'd win?_

 _Would they see a_ hero _?_

He'd been there countless times before. Every night it was the same. And yet somehow, each time it got worse—

The layout stayed the same, the smells, the voices, the words. All of it was identical to the first time, the reality before the dream, but the fear…

It grew each night.

Slowly at first, then all at once, until he awoke in a fit. Always clawing at his neck, begging for air in his lungs.

And then Bakugou woke up the same way he had every morning since the night All Might had fought All For One. He was soaking wet with sweat, eyes drenched in salty, pathetic tears, the remnants of his dream still echoing through his head.

 _The wannabe hero…_

He pushed himself from his sheets and wiped the shit from his face. His throat was dry. He felt his heartbeat pulsing under his skull with a nauseating intensity.

 _What say you become one of us?_

Bakugou stared blankly down at his palms, wondering briefly how big of an explosion he could make with all the fuel his nightmares had given him.

 _…We plan to win._

"Shut up," Bakugou grumbled to himself, seething, agonizing embarrassment bubbling in his abdomen. It was pathetic. _He_ was fucking pathetic. Those pricks didn't know him, they didn't know anything. He'd become Number One. He'd stand at the top. He'd prove them all wrong and show everyone _he_ was who he said he was, he'd do what he said he was going to do; he'd fucking win, and these stupid dreams or nightmares—or whatever the fuck they were—would stop and he'd finally get a peaceful sleep.

 _You… like winning too, right?_

He swallowed hard and shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye he caught his reflection in the small mirror hanging beside his bed… He looked like shit. There were bags a million miles long under his eyes, his unruly hair slumped lifelessly, weighed down in sweat. His fat lip had taken form under his skin, giving him a permanent, puffy pout.

Suddenly, a small, unwarranted grin made its way onto his ashen face. As he lifted his hand to his mouth, he wondered why he thought of Uraraka now. He wondered why seeing his misstep and her small triumph dissolved the remnants of his fear. He pressed his finger against the wound, felt the twinge of pain jump through his face, and scoffed at himself as his grin widened slightly. In that moment, he decided it might be okay to think about her. If it meant he wouldn't have to think about that hands-guy and that dingy bar, he welcomed it.

He sighed, finally feeling his body relax and turned his head towards his window… the sun was already high in the sky. He must have slept well into the afternoon. Bakugou's stomach growled right on cue, as if confirming his suspicions.

With another sigh, he pulled his damp shirt from his body and threw it to the side. If it was already lunch time, some of his classmates were bound to be in the common area. He couldn't go down there looking like he'd seen a ghost… Especially with the possibility that Kirishima might be down there. That guy always stuck his nose where it didn't belong.

Once he made his way to the first floor, Bakugou found his eyes wandering over the common room, searching for a specific face. When he didn't find it, he decided to ignore the rest of them. Especially half-and-half. Bakugou thought he might hate him almost as much as he hated that green-headed mop, Deku. Todoroki didn't even lift his eyes to glance at him as he began rattling around in the kitchen. Some part of him—the part from before—grumbled about how that guy must have thought he was better than him, that he should scream and challenge him again, _make_ him use fire he didn't shy away from anymore…

But Bakugou kept his eyes down instead as he assembled his lunch, quietly wondering where that floaty-girl was.

She irritated him, especially since she'd been placed "in charge" of him for their next assignment… From first glance, she didn't seem like Pro material. Not with the way she followed Deku around like a fucking lost dog or drooled over him when she spaced out in class. Not with that obnoxious way she glided into class, like the new day was a new opportunity, smiling like an idiot. But Bakugou saw something else underneath her mask of unyielding optimism. He didn't know exactly what it was, and he'd never admit to her or anyone else that he was curious about it… but what he did know was that she was stronger than she thought she was. She was stronger than everyone else thought she was. And for some reason, it pissed him off that they kept treating her like she was made of glass or something.

She'd held her own against _him_ after all. At the sports festival. During practice. She didn't shy away from him. That was new for him. He liked it.

"Six sandwiches…?" A voice inquired from the doorway, practically making Bakugou jump out of his skin, "No wonder we're always running out of bread…"

Uraraka was leaning against the frame, arms crossed, her head cocked to one side as she stared judgingly at his lunch. A tight, black tank-top clung to her upper half; He wasn't sure if he'd never seen her out of uniform, or if he'd never noticed before, but Bakugou immediately turned his head back to his food when his eyes began traveling up her lithe arms to her strong, exposed shoulders. She was more muscular than he'd anticipated, but that explained why she was heavier than he'd expected when he lifted her during their sparring match.

He contemplated ignoring her, "What do you want, Round-face?" He growled, against his better judgement, hoping she didn't see the heat he felt in his ears.

"Do I have to want something?" She challenged. He heard a smile in her voice.

"Then get the hell away from me. We're not friends, you know?"

"Maybe," She mused, "But that doesn't mean I can't try."

He scoffed and piled his mountain of sandwiches onto one plate, finally turning to face her. He had a witty comeback prepared, he was almost excited to see how she'd fire back, but his voice caught in his throat when he spied Deku making his way toward them.

"Uraraka! Are you ready? Ilda's on his way down now."

As soon as his voice hit her ears, it was like a switch flipped in her brain. Her face turned as red as the delicately sliced tomatoes on his sandwiches, and she nodded furiously, like she was afraid he might leave if she didn't appease him quickly enough.

 _Right._ Bakugou reminded himself, pushing past them. He'd almost forgotten that Uraraka was Deku's little fangirl. She might be strong in a fight—strong enough that he thought he might actually _enjoy_ sparring with her—but outside the ring, she was weak. It was _Deku, Deku, Deku_. Her stupid, pink cheeks always turned a sickeningly bright red when he was around. She looked at the floor, as if that fucker's gaze was _so_ special. It was like she turned into a different person—

He shook his head and rounded the corner to the stairs.

 _A different person?_ He didn't know her at all. He had to remind himself that he didn't _want_ to know her.

Still… The determination, and the eagerness, and the passion he saw in her eyes during their matches… that felt genuine. The pathetic, doe-eyed, stuttering girl that appeared every time Deku was around grossed him out. It didn't suit her.

"Bakugou!"

He swallowed hard and spun himself around to meet her chestnut eyes once more, "Fuck off, already," He growled, irritated that he couldn't seem to get away from her. Inside his head, or out of it.

Underneath Uraraka's swollen mask, she frowned, "I wanted to ask you…" Her voice trailed off as she hesitated.

"No." Bakugou answered, quickly turning to begin his ascension up the stairs as the class-rep and Deku came into view.

"H-hey! I haven't even asked yet!" She shouted up the stairwell.

"No!" He yelled again, not bothering to look back at her.

She made some noise akin to a groan and started after him, "Just come to lunch with us, will you? H-hey! Are you running?!"

He was. Last time she'd chased after him, she'd sent him floating. And Bakugou wanted to go the rest of his life without feeling that nausea again. The thought of it sent shivers up his spine. He didn't like feeling like he wasn't in control. He could do a lot of things, and the things he couldn't, he vowed to learn. But manipulating gravity was not one of them.

But Uraraka was chasing him anyway, up to the fourth floor, down the hallway, and all the way to his door.

Finally, Bakugou turned on his heels to face her and she stopped dead in her tracks when she met his eyes.

"Are you fucking blind?" He roared, motioning to his leaning tower of sandwiches. "Even if hadn't just spent 20 god damn minutes making this shit, I wouldn't go to lunch you and those scum. You hear me?! Now, go running back to that damn nerd that you love _so_ much, and _get away from me._ "

Her face twisted from one emotion to another in a matter of seconds. Surprise, anger, embarrassment. Uraraka blinked a couple times and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. And Bakugou didn't wait around to see if anything would.

"I'm not your friend, round-face." And with that, he kicked his door open and slammed it behind him, thinking only that he must have finally won. Maybe now she'd finally leave him alone.

Only after he heard her dejected footsteps disappear down the hallway did he feel the slightest bit of guilt well up in his chest. And with it, it felt like the demons of his dreams returned with renewed vigor. The voices echoed in his mind, louder with each passing second.

 _Wannabe hero._

Bakugou slumped down in his chair and shoved half of his first sandwich into his mouth, trying to get the image of her watery, wavering eyes out of his head.

 _You… like winning too, right?_

* * *

[Uraraka]

Over the brief time she'd been at UA, she'd seen quite a few different sides to Bakugou. Whether he was kicking his feet up on the desk in their classroom, blatantly ignoring the rules, or writhing on the winner's podium after the sports festival. She'd seen him mindlessly attack Deku during training, and she'd seen his demeanor change, ever so slightly, after his capture… that look of guilt after All Might's end. She'd seen a bit of a spark return after their sparring match yesterday. Or at least, she thought she had.

But even with everything she'd witnessed, she'd never seen Bakugou react so… childishly? Uraraka wasn't even sure if that was the right word. It was completely different from his usual outbursts. Just as loud, though…

He'd literally _ran_ from her, and then exploded. All because Deku had shown up. She hadn't expected him to accept her invite, but she'd really wanted to take the time to _talk_ to him. To thank him again for the advice he'd given her. And of course, to talk about their assignment.

 _"Now, go running back to that damn nerd that you love so much, and get away from me."_

Uraraka started down the stairs, embarrassment seeping onto her cheeks. _Love._ He'd said _love_. Just like Aoyama had. That was… ridiculous. It wasn't like she had time for something like that anyway. Definitely not. She didn't _love_ him, she… admired him. He was already a hero in his own way, she aspired to be like him one day. Deku was warm and caring, strong and unyielding, he looked out for her wellbeing, he had even checked on her to make sure she was okay after her spar with Mr. Crazy Lord Explosion Murder or whatever it was he had decided to call himself. Deku was her _friend_. She wasn't…

At the bottom of the stairs, standing awkwardly next to the entrance, was Ilda and Deku. He had those worried eyes again. He'd heard the whole thing— _obviously._ Bakugou was as loud as he was short-tempered—and she could already see the question on his freckled face before he even opened his mouth.

"Are you okay?"

A smile lifted her lips, her heart swelled, her cheeks grew warmer… and then Uraraka froze on the last step.

With a gulp she nodded, "I'll be fine. I think I'm getting used to it…"

Deku replied with an exasperated grin, scratching at the back of his neck, and Uraraka swore she felt her stomach flip.

She _wasn't_ in love with him. No way.


	4. Sidekick

**Thirty Days**

* * *

 ** _Disclaimer:_** _I don't own BNHA or any of its characters._

* * *

 _Chapter Four: Sidekick_

[Day Three]

[Uraraka]

As the early morning sun rose in the east and the new light spilled over the horizon, Uraraka cursed herself.

She typically ran every morning before class and rested on the weekends but today had been an exception. She was too stressed to sit around in her room and waste the day away. If she couldn't get Bakugou to participate in the assignment, the very least she could do was continue her training. Uraraka had decided on a change of pace this morning, straying from her usual route, and realized much too late that she'd ran too far. The sun had started rising. Now she was jogging back to the dorms practically blind.

She decided to blame Bakugou. His newfound presence in her life had become a constant stressor. If she'd just been paired with someone less _conflicting_ , someone who could just decide whether or not to be hot or cold, she could come up with a game plan. Instead of trying to sweat out her frustration.

Uraraka had really thought she'd made at least the smallest bit of progress with her partner. Challenging him to something he couldn't refuse, managing to land a decisive hit, she'd thought he might warm up. She thought maybe, _just maybe_ , she had a shot of making things friendly. But now she felt like their relationship might be worse off than it was before. At this point, she almost preferred that he just go back to his indifference to her, rather than the disgust.

 _"Now, go running back to that damn nerd that you love_ so _much, and_ get away from me _."_

She felt the frown settle into her face as she recalled his words again.

 _"We're not friends, round-face."_

 _I know that, idiot._ She grumbled to herself, sighing in relief as she turned a corner and UA's imposing building blocked the sun from view. _But I want to be._

He'd resent her for even _thinking_ it, but she was worried about him. She knew how badly he wanted to be number one. If he couldn't even swallow his pride for a month and start working with her on this assignment, how was he even going to be able to finish the courses at UA? Let alone work in the hero industry?

When she finally reached to dorms, Uraraka huffed and glanced up at the fourth-floor windows as she stretched. Maybe on her way back to her room, she could try talking to him again. Maybe the new day had helped him cool off…

She doubted it, but her tired legs carried her past her room and toward his regardless. Giving up wasn't an option. Not yet, anyway. Maybe if he started showering her with explosions, she'd reconsider her stance on that.

Uraraka came to an abrupt halt, hearing a muffled cry escape from someone's room. She blinked, and her eye caught Bakugou's door, slightly ajar. Cautiously, she took a couple steps toward it. Then there was another sound, a painful grunt. It sounded like…

"Bakugou?" She whispered into the crack.

There was no answer, but she could hear him from the hallway. It sounded like he was in pain.

Before she could even think, she pushed the door open.

Bakugou was sleeping, or at least, trying to. He was writhing around under his blankets, blonde hair matted to his head with sweat. His face was contorted in a way she had never seen on anyone; as if someone was scorching him with fiery, smoldering iron, terror and pain were branded on his face. She wanted nothing more than to shake him awake, free him from whatever was causing that expression. But she hesitated—Bakugou wouldn't want her to see him this way. He wouldn't want _anyone_ to see him this way. Vulnerable. Scared. All the things he pretended he was incapable of being. She knew he'd want her to leave, pretend she hadn't seen anything, and leave him in his suffering.

But…

Her chest ached, a dull tugging feeling.

Even if he hated her for it, she couldn't let him keep enduring whatever this was.

Her eyes stung as she looked down at him and kneeled next to his bed, "Bakugou…" She murmured, slowly extending her trembling hand to rest on his forehead. He stilled almost instantly, "W-wake up, Bakugou."

Watery crimson eyes fluttered open and found hers. For a moment, he looked at her, like he didn't believe she was there, until finally, a hoarse voice escaped his throat, "Ura…raka?"

She smoothed his sopping wet hair back from his forehead and nodded before removing her hand. She wanted to ask if he was okay, but she was afraid any words she might come up with would be wrong. She didn't want him to misconstrue her emotions and see pity rather than concern. She wondered if he knew those things could be different… unsure of what to say, she sat back onto the floor and waited.

After a dreadfully silent moment, Bakugou sat up. But he didn't look at her. Slowly, his scowl returned and pulled his sweaty palms into his lap, studying them. She saw his jaw clench and steeled herself for an attack, but the only thing he said was, "Why are you here?"

"Your door was open…"

"So?"

She blinked, half uncomfortable, half relieved. "I, uh… heard you. So, I came in to check on you. You didn't answer when I called for you."

She saw the muscles in his jaw tense up again, like he was irritated. But it lacked aggression. He was exhausted, deflated; from the nightmare or her discovery of it, she wasn't sure. His eyes flicked over to her, completely unreadable. Slowly, he reached towards his busted lip and pressed on it, "Don't breathe a fucking word about this."

It was completely unnerving; his vulnerability, his caution. It was a side of him she didn't know existed. But that was unfair to him. She'd been so caught up in thinking about what an immovable force of nature Bakugou usually was, she hadn't stopped to consider that he was just another high schooler. He was human. Under his exterior was fear and pain, even if he wouldn't acknowledge it. Even so, she frowned at his warning. Did he think that was the kind of person she was? That she'd go air this to their entire class? For what reason? Did he trust anyone at all?

Uraraka sighed, bringing his gaze back to her and felt her brow knit in frustration. Sure, they weren't exactly friends. They barely knew each other. But she knew from that look on his face— the shame, the embarrassment, the _agony_ —that no one knew about this. He was keeping this a secret from everyone. He was suffering alone. And for some reason, in that moment, all she wanted to do was _be there_. Even if he didn't want her support. She wanted to make sure he knew he wasn't alone. "I wouldn't do that, Bakugou."

* * *

[Bakugou]

Every cell in his body was _screaming_.

He wanted to yell, tear his room apart, throw her back into the hallway and turn the entire building to ash. Maybe even himself, at this point. How _dare_ she witness this? She had no right. He didn't want anyone to know. No one could know. They wouldn't understand. Hell, Bakugou didn't even understand. No one was supposed to see him look this fucking pathetic—this wasn't what a hero was supposed to look like. This wasn't what the number one hero was _supposed_ to look like.

But somehow, Bakugou didn't hate her for this. He couldn't.

As soon as he felt her hand on his forehead, it was like everything washed away. The bar faded, the poisonous, taunting words oozing from the villains' mouths dissolved into white noise. It suddenly felt like a distant memory. It felt like something he might actually be able to forget.

Under her defiant gaze, he felt a confusing, overwhelming sense of relief.

"I would never…" Her voice was quieter this time, but she didn't avert her eyes. Still, she shifted uncomfortably on the floor, he could see her struggling with the right words. "Do you… want to talk about it?"

He scoffed and shook his head, "No way."

Even if he wanted to, he didn't know how. He didn't know what words he could use to describe that dream. It was too _fucking_ much. And there was no way in hell he could tell her just how afraid it made him. Their words. Their eyes. What those fuckers saw when they looked at him— _an ally, a villain, a tool—_

 _Wannabe hero._

Bakugou shook his head and dug his teeth into his bottom lip, wincing a little at the pang, grateful for the distraction.

"It's about the League, isn't it?" It was a question, but it sounded like she already knew the answer before she even finished asking.

"Tch," Was all he could muster in response.

"You don't have to pretend, you know. You don't have to—"

"Stop it." He growled, "I know you must think you have all the fucking answers, but you don't know a god damn thing! Not about _me_ or any of…" Bakugou felt himself flush as he motioned to the mess that was himself, " _This_."

Bakugou watched Uraraka's eyes widen and then immediately fall into a fierce glare. She stood and practically yelled, "I'm not trying to tell you what to do or how to feel! I'm just saying that it's _okay_ to feel that way. You don't have to act like there's nothing out there that can run you down, it's okay if there is. Even if you that's what you want people to think, or… or if that's what you tell yourself, then just know you're lying!" Her bottom lip trembled, only slightly, and her voice grew louder, "Even All Might wasn't immune to that kind of stuff, you know?! All that matters is that you keep going, no matter what!"

"Get out." He snapped, feeling guilty as soon as the words left his lips. Two conflicting, infuriating desires rose up within him. The first: he wanted her to fucking leave. To stop looking at him. To forget everything she'd seen and heard and never speak to him again. He wanted her to leave him alone, so he could wallow in his own pitiful world before he had to emerge and face the day. The second thing though… he wished with all his might he knew the right words to ask her to stay. Without feeling like a complete idiot. Without having to explain to her that _she_ had been his savior that morning. And even though she was Deku's stupid little fangirl, she provided him with company he didn't despise.

Bakugou wasn't sure why, but Uraraka's presence was a comfort in that moment.

And his dumbass had just told her to leave.

Before she could say anything else or high-tail it out of there, Bakugou finally climbed out of bed and pushed past her, making his way into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. He peeled his sweaty clothes from his body with a huff and turned the shower on full blast, making sure it was as cold as possible.

He didn't step into the icy water until he heard the door to his room close.

"Fucking… idiot." He grumbled, unsure if he was talking to himself or to Uraraka.

 _What say you become one of us?_

Bakugou shoved his face into the water, wishing he could just drown it all out. "Never…" He responded to no one, "Never… never…"

Every bead of water that ran down his face and over his shoulders burned. It didn't matter how cold the shower was, it never seemed to relieve the fire that had settled under his skin, even when he stood there until his teeth were chattering and his body was practically convulsing with shivers. But it was still better than a hot shower.

Bakugou wasn't sure how long he let the frigid waters run over him; all he could think about was that stupid fucking look on Uraraka's face when he'd opened his eyes that morning. He hadn't planned on anyone discovering those… dreams. But that wasn't the look he'd been expecting. She wasn't looking down on him, she hadn't been looking at him like he was _weak_ or pitiful.

Somewhere in the recess of his mind, he was glad it was her.

If someone was going to find out, he didn't mind it being Uraraka Ochaco.

 _And you sent her away._

* * *

[Uraraka]

 _He told you to leave,_ Uraraka thought quietly to herself as she stared at the door to Bakugou Katsuki's bathroom. She wasn't sure what he was going to do when he opened that door and saw her still sitting there. Yell, probably. But she'd seen the exhaustion on his face. Even if he did yell, it wouldn't have the same… _oomph_.

 _He told you to leave…_ she told herself again, shifting awkwardly on the floor. _But…_

He'd definitely told her to get out, but if there was one thing Uraraka had learned about Bakugou these last few days, it was that he almost never said what he meant, at least not if it might show some form of weakness. It really didn't feel like he wanted her to go. She knew she was probably reaching… but she couldn't bring herself to leave him after everything she'd seen. Just like she couldn't turn and walk away when she'd seen him suffering. It just wasn't in her nature to ignore people in need, even if they might not want her help.

She sighed. She _wanted_ to help Bakugou, but she had no idea how she was supposed to do that. She knew almost nothing about him.

Uraraka let her eyes wander around his room. She'd never been in a boy's room before, but she'd expected it to be a lot messier. Especially if that room belonged to Bakugou. He was infuriatingly short-tempered and erratic, but he was surprisingly neat. She hadn't really taken note of it earlier, but even yesterday when he'd made himself that mountain of sandwiches, they were all delicately assembled, the veggies were all evenly sliced, and every single one of them had been cut symmetrically… She always thought she'd be more nervous to be in a boy's room. But there was something comforting about this room. Maybe that was because it belonged to _Bakugou_ , and not someone like Deku…

 _"Now, go running back to that damn nerd that you love_ so _much, and_ get away from me _."_

A sigh escaped her lips and she smacked her cheeks a few times, remembering too late the bruises under her skin. Slightly defeated, she cupped her wounded face and sighed once more. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about Deku. She didn't think she'd ever have time to unweave the messy web of feelings under her chest.

Finally, her eyes fell to the bedroom door she'd closed a few moments prior. She'd closed it so none of their classmates would walk by and see her there or ask any weird questions, but now she was second-guessing herself. Wouldn't it be even weirder if someone discovered her there now, behind a closed door, with Bakugou in the shower…

She blinked slowly, eyes darting from one door to the other, before realization crashed down around her.

 _Bakugou is… in the shower._

She felt the fire in her cheeks before she realized why—if he was in the shower… and if he heard the door close… after he'd told her to get out of his room… then he'd probably think she was gone.

"Oh geez," She shook her head furiously and jumped to her feet.

He'd ran off to the bathroom so quickly, he hadn't grabbed a change of clothes. And if he thought she'd left then there was no guarantee he wouldn't come out of there…

The abrupt sound of the water shutting off on the other side of the wall sent her into a sudden panic. She wanted to stay—she wanted to be there if he needed her but there was no guarantee he wouldn't come out of that room completely…

 _Naked._

Uraraka gulped and scrambled for the door, 100 percent certain she could melt metal against her cheeks at this very moment. As she reached for the door knob, the voices of her classmates on the other side became clear and she squeaked—

 _Damn you, Kirishima… Shouji…!_

From the sounds of their voices, they were chatting right outside their rooms, which were just down the hall from Bakugou's. If she jumped out now, they'd see her…

But if she stayed in here…

Uraraka backed away from the door and retreated further into Bakugou's room. As far as she could tell, she had no choice. Her eyes darted to the furthest corner, opposite his bathroom, and she practically ran into it, shoving her nose against the wall.

At the same time, the door to the bathroom swung open and a heavy, deafening silence filled the air.

It was Bakugou who spoke first.

"What… what the hell are you doing, Round-face?"

She could hear the mixture of confusion and surprise in his voice, but she didn't waste time trying to discern why as the heat on her cheeks traveled to the tips of her ears, "M-my apologies…!" She said shakily into the wall. Never in her life had she felt so horribly embarrassed. Her heart thumped under her chest so loudly that she wondered if he could hear it. There was no way he _couldn't_.

"Why the fuck are you standing in the corner?"

Uraraka could almost picture the bewilderment on his face. It might have been funny if she weren't completely mortified.

"Never mind that!" She stumbled over her words and pressed her face harder against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut, "I wasn't thinking and I know you told me to get out but I didn't want to leave… b-but I didn't think about the fact that you'd probably be n-naked until it was way too late!" She wasn't sure if he could even understand what she was saying, it all rushed out at a million miles per hour, but nevertheless he didn't seem angry.

"Tch," Bakugou sighed, "I'm not naked, _idiot_. You look like a fucking weirdo like that. You're creeping me out."

Uraraka exhaled, cool relief quenching some of the heat on her cheeks. "Thank goodness," She responded with a nervous laugh and turned around, only to be greeted by Bakugou, his deflated, dripping blonde hair, and his bare upper torso. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked him up and down. He had his usual scowl plastered across his face, but he was clad in only a long, white towel tied around his abdomen. The only thing that kept the shriek in her throat was the knowledge that her classmates were right outside the door. The blood rushed back to face again. "Y-y-you _are_ naked!" She practically hissed.

"I didn't tell you to fucking turn around, did I?!" He growled back. Uraraka was certain she saw a glimpse of his ears turning scarlet before she spun back around and slammed her face back into the wall.

"My apologies!" She cried again.

Uraraka wasn't sure if people could die from sheer embarrassment, but she certainly hoped not.

She was too young to die.

"I'm sorry…" Uraraka mumbled, thumbing the rough pads on her fingers. She'd apologized nearly a hundred times by now and her project partner was long dressed and dried, but her face still burned no matter how much time passed. She couldn't even bring herself to look up at him. She wasn't even sure why she was still there, but he hadn't told her to leave again. Besides, she wasn't sure she had enough strength left in her legs to stand. This entire fiasco had left her exhausted.

"Shut up," Bakugou growled from across table, "Just drink that."

Uraraka lifted her eyes just enough to look at the small mug that had been placed in front of her. To be honest, she wasn't even sure when he'd made the tea let alone when he'd offered her some of her own. She grabbed it and brought it to her lips, still unable to meet his eyes.

 _This is unbearable_ , she grumbled to herself.

Not the tea—although she could barely taste it—but the atmosphere hanging in the air around them. Uraraka had seen shirtless men before, it wasn't like it was an uncommon occurrence. Especially at UA and all the different hero costumes she'd come across in her lifetime. Either on TV or during training or the day they all designed their costumes. However, Uraraka had never seen _Bakugou_ shirtless. And she _definitely_ hadn't ever seen a man wearing only a towel, glistening after a shower. At least not in person. Not someone she _knew_. Not one of her classmates. Not _Bakugou_.

Uraraka resisted violently shaking the image from her mind. Things were awkward enough right now, she didn't need to do anything else weird.

Bakugou being uncharacteristically quiet didn't help the uneasiness either.

She needed to fix this heaviness between them or get out of there—

"Oy, Round-face," Bakugou's curt tone cut through the silence, finally drawing her eyes from the floor to his face, "Are you going to hang around here all damn day?" His narrowed eyes looked annoyed, but he still hadn't told her to leave.

"No, of course not," She said with a frown, suddenly remembering the reason she'd ventured to his door that morning, "I was hoping we could finally talk about our assignment." She responded quickly, setting the mug back onto the table.

Somehow, his eyes narrowed even more, "I already told you—"

Uraraka raised her hands in small surrender, "I'm not asking you to play sidekick, Bakugou." She clarified, "I don't like this assignment either. I'm not sure it's fair. Forcing people who aren't _suited_ for the role of Pro or Sidekick into one category or the other is strange, right? That's why those roles exist in the first place." She gently tapped her fingers on the table, taking advantage of his silence, "If you look at all the match-ups, not just you and I, there's a common theme. Aizawa-sensei is forcing all of our strongest classmates to _follow_ and the weaker, or more reserved ones, to _lead_."

Bakugou raised an eyebrow, but the look on his face suggested he'd already thought that out for himself.

She continued, "He's pushing us out of our comfort zones. But I don't want you to play sidekick for me. I want to be a Pro, like everyone else here, but we barely know _anything_ about this assignment. Rather than focusing on the titles, I think we should just focus on working together for now. If we figure that part out, the roles will fall into place."

He scoffed, but he didn't immediately dismiss her either. Uraraka wasn't sure if he was beginning to realize that he had to at least _participate_ in this assignment or if he was just feeling less argumentative than usual, but he gave her one quick nod.

Uraraka felt a grin spread across her face. She stood and, much like she had in class the other day, pointed one padded finger at him and issued her challenge, "Spar with me, Bakugou Katsuki!"

This time, he didn't flinch away or fume with rage. He didn't slap her hand away either. A huge, half-maniacal grin lifted his lips and he stood to meet her gaze, "I accept your stupid fucking challenge," The words were the same, but she heard something akin to excitement in his voice, "I'll kill you."

Uraraka resisted the urge to release an exasperated sigh. Still, it made her happy in a strange way. She wondered if he'd ever knock that off, but she was entirely certain that would never happen in her lifetime. She thought about extending her hand further, to try the handshake once more, but decided against it. It was probably best not to push her luck so early on.

Today, she could be happy with seeing that look on his face.


	5. Fragile

**Disclaimer:** I do not own BNHA or any of its characters. Obviously.

* * *

 _Chapter Five: Fragile_

[Day Eight]

[Bakugou]

Every morning and evening Bakugou met up with his project partner outside the dorms for sparring practice. Rain or shine, Uraraka always showed up, even if she'd already taken a beating that day during class. For now, they hadn't gone past basic sparring although the training maintained a vigorous pace. Every day, she came at him with renewed determination. She didn't let her bruises slow her down. She didn't let an error in movement discourage her. And recently, she hadn't allowed him to knock her off her feet at all.

Spending so much time with the floaty-girl had proved to be significantly less annoying than he thought it would be. He found himself looking forward to it during class and when he went to bed each night. The shitty dreams, and those _fucking_ voices had grown pretty quiet. He didn't have time to think about them anymore. And whenever he faced off against her, he felt himself growing stronger. To his surprise, their fights had evolved from him throwing her around the mat, to having to dodge a barrage of quick punches to keep himself grounded. She was already evolving into a more competent opponent and that forced him to grow as well.

He still won every bout, but over the last few days, they'd grown longer. The hits she landed on him weren't lucky, they were the result of his carelessness or her watchful eye. He frequently found himself dripping sweat and gasping for air, and she'd gotten better at taking the hits she couldn't dodge in stride.

He felt challenged, excited and invigorated. It felt like it had been months since he'd had this much fun.

He liked it.

He liked _her._

Bakugou froze halfway out his door and wrinkled his nose at his own thoughts. He liked her? No. Not like that. He liked her as a sparring partner. _Obviously_. If anything, he tolerated her. Like he did with Kirishima.

He scoffed at himself and swallowed hard, half bewildered by his own inner monologue and exited his room, heading for the stairwell. It was almost 8:00pm, which meant it was almost time for their second training session of the day.

The makeshift sparring ring they'd made beside the dorms consisted of a few old, torn mats that the UA teachers had offered up to Uraraka. They'd tucked them between a small alcove of trees just around the back corner of the building, hiding them from the sidewalk to avoid the possibility of spectators. The trees also provided cover from any of the windows above them. Uraraka had suggested it, grumbling to herself about how her friends would scold her if they found out she was fighting him without the supervision of the teachers.

Bakugou couldn't have cared less; he was aware of what the others thought of him. And her. Those idiots had obviously never fought her if they thought she'd break that easily.

It felt like a secret Bakugou had all to himself. A part of _her_ he had all to himself. Something that even her friends refused to see or acknowledge. The overwhelming selfishness in him wanted to keep it all for himself. But on the other hand, it fucking pissed him off that no one else seemed to notice it. That _fucking_ look on her face of fiery determination, revealing an uncontrollable desire to push past her own limits, to prove to herself and to others that she could always do better. That she could _win_.

 _You… like winning too, right?_

"Fuck." He grumbled under his breath, shaking his head. He made his way around the outside of the dorms, trying harder than he'd ever admit to clear his mind.

"Hey, Bakugou." A chipper voice greeted him before he could even set down his duffle bag.

"Round-face." He responded, a hint of frustration making its way into his throat. He wondered how long it was going to take for those voices to go away completely.

He wondered if they ever would.

If Uraraka noticed anything, she didn't acknowledge it and continued stretching on her side of the mat. Not long after Bakugou began his warmups, the floaty-girl jumped to her feet and hopped from side to side, signaling she was ready to begin. He suppressed a smile at her enthusiasm, not bothering to wonder when he began thinking that part of her was endearing as opposed to annoying.

Something was off.

Bakugou stepped to the left, barely arching his neck to avoid Uraraka's weak right swing. It had been almost twenty minutes since they'd began, and her stamina was already drained. Just this morning, she'd been relentless even after an hour straight.

"Too slow," He chided, taking advantage of her exposed, outstretched arm. He snapped his hand to her wrist and yanked, spinning her 180 degrees and pinning it against her back.

 _Sloppy footing._ He thought with a frown. Uraraka usually stood with a wide, grounded stance, especially when she realized that Bakugou would take every opportunity or opening to toss her over his shoulder or bring her to the ground. She'd been implementing that tactic since their second match in their private ring. And she'd been consistent with it since.

Something was fucking off.

Bakugou grit his teeth together and slid one leg between hers, pulling back after stepping in front of her left foot. There was almost no resistance when he yanked her foot out from under her. She dropped to one knee and instantly fell flat on her stomach with a loud _oomph_.

"You fucking day dreaming or something?" He growled, taking a step back and crossing his arms. "What the hell was that, huh?"

She didn't respond. Slow, shaky arms struggled to push herself upright. Her chestnut hair fell in a stringy veil over her face, but Bakugou could hear her gasping for breath. He saw the trembling in her shoulders. He saw her curled toes, clenched so tightly they were nearly white—she was in pain. He should have known it wasn't exhaustion; she'd been keeping up with him every day.

It was then that he noticed she wasn't dressed in her usual workout garb. Instead of her tight, black tank top and compression shorts, she'd worn long leggings and kept her sweatshirt on, zipped all the way to her neck. She'd worn something similar this morning, but because of the bite in the wind Bakugou hadn't thought anything of it.

He stood there, unsure how to process the unfamiliar tightness in his chest as he looked down at her. As she struggled to push herself back onto her feet. As her legs wobbled, straining to hold up her own weight. As he watched, he realized _this_ was his doing. This was different than the sports festival—he hadn't thrown explosion after explosion at her, she hadn't lifted half of the crumbled arena with her quirk. They weren't competing in some tournament. She wasn't tired. She wasn't out of it. It wasn't fatigue. She wasn't pushing through adrenaline or aches. She was in _pain_.

 _Wannabe hero._

Bakugou took one quick step back. A mixture of emotions swirled in his chest, tightening the knot that had formed there. He wanted to say this was weakness— _her_ weakness. He wanted to say that if she was hurt, it was her own damn fault. She needed to get stronger. Until she did, she was worthless. No one wanted a weak hero. Weaklings wouldn't make it to the top.

 _What say you become one of us?_

But that wasn't right. Not really. Uraraka was different from the others. There wasn't a single part of his mind that could connect the word _weak_ to _Uraraka_. Ever since the first time they fought, and he watched her run at him head on and fall over and over, he watched her stand the fuck back up. She'd taken every hit in stride, she'd formulated a plan, she'd seen her opportunity for victory, and she reached out to grab it. She did everything in her power to fucking _win_. Just like he did.

 _You… like winning too, right?_

Bakugou swallowed hard. He wasn't accustomed to whatever the fuck this was. He'd never been ashamed of beating down his opponent. He'd never felt guilty for being strong. So, what the fuck was he feeling right now? _Why?_

"Sorry," Her voice broke through the voices echoing around his skull. She forced out a small chuckle and sighed. Finally, she turned to face him and Bakugou swore he felt the blood drain from his face. "I think I pushed a little too hard…"

Uraraka was smiling. Of course she was fucking smiling. Strained and fake and trembling. Her watery eyes wavered when she finally met his, and in a blink, they overflowed. She seemed shocked by her own tears, and quickly turned away from him again.

"Sorry… Bakugou." Her voice was a lot quieter this time.

"Why the fuck are you apologizing?" He snapped, hearing the venom in his voice. He was pissed off. He was fucking angry. He was a dozen different emotions all at once, half of which he didn't recognize, but he smothered it all in rage. Rage was familiar. Comforting. It created a comfortable bubble around him that he could drown himself in. But right now, watching Uraraka shaking, quivering on the ground, hiding her bruises and her pain under those baggy clothes, rage didn't feel like the right emotion to hide behind. He wondered what the right one was.

She didn't answer him. She seemed too focused on managing her pain and hiding her hot tears from his heavy gaze.

Before Bakugou could say anything else, Uraraka collapsed into a heap, her face twisted into an agonizing grimace. His stomach churned and his eyes widened, "Hey…" He snapped, "Get up, will you?"

Obviously, there was no answer, just a heavy rise and fall of her chest.

"Damn it…" He grumbled, approaching her slowly and ignoring the panic that had his heart racing in his chest. He wasn't even sure where to lift her—he didn't know the extent of her injuries under her clothes. He had no desire to put her through any more pain. But he had to get her to the infirmary. Or Recovery Girl. To someone who could make her wake up or come to her fucking senses or…

Bakugou shook his head. Gritting his teeth and kneeling, he scooped her into his arms as gently as he could manage. With a frustrated huff and another sickening twist of that knot in his stomach, he turned on his bare heels and began jogging toward the infirmary.

As he made his way across campus, and he cradled the floaty-girl in his arms, the lingering voices that loved to invade his thoughts vanished and he clutched tighter. Her touch seemed to have a knack for that. Bakugou wondered what that meant. He wondered if she'd protest to him holding her like this if she was awake. He wondered if she'd make him let go.

"Damn it, Uraraka…" He muttered.

Bakugou glanced down at her tight expression and felt his cheeks grow red in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. With a grunt, he pushed himself to a sprint.

* * *

[Day Nine]

[Uraraka]

The blinding, bright whiteness of the room she awoke in was terribly disorienting. After a few blinks and the tug of the IV on her arm, Uraraka realized where she was. To her right she saw Recovery Girl sitting at her desk, typing away on her computer. Her throat was dry, and her head ached, but she managed to find her voice, "Is it morning already?"

A disapproving glare immediately appeared on the hero's face, "Afternoon, actually."

Uraraka sighed, disappointed that she'd missed not just class that morning but her early morning match with Bakugou—

"Oh…" She murmured, bits of her memory returning to her in consciousness.

 _Geez… I fainted, didn't I?_ She thought.

Recovery Girl didn't give her much more time to think before giving her a dramatic sigh and turning her chair to face her, "I hope you have a better excuse for all this than that young man did," She muttered, shaking her head. "I didn't have you pegged for the type to break the rules."

"Young man?" Uraraka asked softly, "You mean… Bakugou? Did he bring me here?"

"That he did, right as I was heading out for the night! He looked even scarier than usual, that boy. He needs to work on that temper of his."

Uraraka stifled a laugh. She was certain Recovery Girl wouldn't think it was very funny. Especially considering the circumstances. The two of them _had_ been breaking the rules. Unsupervised sparring was on the list of forbidden activities. And it wouldn't help their case now that she'd ended up hospitalized. She suddenly felt incredibly stupid… She'd fought with herself about going to Recovery Girl for the bumps and bruises, convincing herself that she could fight through it… and now their secret was out and Bakugou would certainly be punished more severely than she would.

"You missed your classes for today but now that you're awake Aizawa will want to see you." Recovery Girl interrupted Uraraka's contemplation with yet another sigh. "You kids just don't know how to hold back. Your bruises were severe, you know. And you had _two_ fractured ribs. I'm sure that's what made you pass out. Well, that and the exhaustion. Part of being a hero, whether it's on the forefront or the sidelines, requires you to know and understand your own limits, Uraraka Ochako. I suggest you keep that in mind." She stood and gently removed the IV from Uraraka's arm, replacing it with a small, circular bandage. "Your clothes are folded up under your bed. If I were you, I'd change and go see your teacher as soon as you're able."

Uraraka nodded and blinked away the shameful tears that threated to spill over her cheeks. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint anyone. She'd been trying to better herself. And in less than a week, she'd managed to mess all that up. Bracing herself for Aizawa-sensei's scolding, Uraraka swung her feet over the edge of the bed and grabbed her clothes. Somehow, she knew her teacher's disappointment in her wouldn't match Bakugou's. And on top of that, the disappointment she felt in herself.

She wasn't sure if it had been pride keeping her away from the infirmary or her inability to judge the seriousness of her own injuries. Or maybe it was because she didn't want Bakugou to think she was weak. Everyone else seemed to think that she was fragile, but her project partner had never pulled any punches for her sake. She didn't want him to change his mind. So, she suffered.

And got him into trouble.

 _I'm so stupid…_ She thought, thumbing the pads on her fingers. In her effort to keep Bakugou around she'd made a miscalculation… and that was putting it lightly.

Once she was dressed, Uraraka slowly made her way into the hallway and headed towards the faculty office. She ran every possible question he might ask through her head and tried to prepare an answer that sounded reasonable. When that failed, she tried to think of any way she could to lessen the punishment Bakugou was facing. It was _her_ idea. She would have to do anything and everything she could to ease that burden. Her project partner wouldn't admit it, but he was going through an unsurmountable list of other problems and she didn't want to add to them.

With a gulp, Uraraka lifted a shaky hand to knock on the door to the faculty office and grit her teeth together when she heard her teacher respond on the other side.

"Enter."

With a slow exhale, Uraraka stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Her teacher cut right to the chase.

"I see you've finally woken up." Aizawa-sensei's voice was thick with obvious annoyance. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine now," She answered quietly, finding it difficult to meet his bloodshot eyes, "I… apologize for missing todays lessons."

He knitted his brows together incredulously, as if he couldn't believe _that_ was what she was apologizing for. "You'll have time to make up for it. I'm more concerned with _why_ you missed them in the first place."

"Right…" Uraraka answered with a nervous smile. She wondered if he expected her to apologize for that too, but she kept her mouth shut. Uraraka wasn't in the business of apologizing if she didn't mean it. And despite everything, she didn't regret the deal she'd made with Bakugou. "I don't know if you talked to Bakugou yet—"

"I have."

"—well then you have to know it was all my idea! I begged him to spar with me outside of class, sensei. He had no idea I was injured. I even tried to hide it from him. I wanted to work harder! I wanted to get stronger and I wanted to figure out a way to connect with him for this project—"

Aizawa interrupted her ramblings with a pointed look and what she could only describe as a nasty retort, "As interesting as that is, Uraraka, _Bakugou_ already took credit for your rule breaking. You don't need to try and cover for him." He stood slowly and approached her, his gaze softening just enough to confuse the hell out of her, "I wish you would have come forward and told us he'd threatened you. We would have adjusted the groupings All Might put into place—"

"You're… kidding, right?" She let out a single laugh. _Unbelievable._

"No." He responded, his face returning to its exasperated mask, "After everything this class has endured, we wouldn't want anyone to be in any more danger than absolutely necessary."

Uraraka stared at him. _Danger_? She was speechless. Aizawa was implying that Bakugou had _threatened_ her into participating… right? He believed he had trapped her into some weird, abusive partnership. So… what? He could beat her up every day? Was _that_ what Bakugou had told him? Aizawa _believed_ that? He thought he was capable of that?

She couldn't even focus of the fact that Bakugou had made up some ridiculous story to take every ounce of the blame while she'd spent her entire trek to the faculty office thinking of any possible way to lessen _his_ punishment.

A horrid, gut-wrenching feeling took hold of her while she stared back at her teacher. All she could think about was Bakugou's face as he dreamed a horrible dream, as he cried out, and the suffering he was enduring behind closed doors. All she could picture was his watery, crimson eyes after they'd fought against that nightmare.

Rage bubbled in her stomach.

"Bakugou isn't some _villain._ " She said suddenly, finally lifting her eyes to look at her teacher square in the face. "And whatever he told you was a lie."

Aizawa only blinked in response, and Uraraka continued, ignoring the several teachers gawking from their desks.

"He _wouldn't_ do what you're suggesting, sensei. He has a bad temper and a… uh, abrasive personality... But Bakugou isn't a _villain_! He wouldn't hurt me—or anyone, for fun! I asked him to spar with me! I wanted to break the rules, I begged him to break the rules, because I wanted to be better. Because Bakugou is a hero, and he doesn't treat me like some fragile doll, and it's the most amazing feeling in the world! I pretended like I was fine, I ignored my injuries and that was wrong, but it isn't _his_ fault. And I _can't_ believe that you'd believe something so… something so _stupid_!"

Only silence followed.

Uraraka huffed in Aizawa's face, too angry to care that she'd just verbally attacked her teacher. In the middle of the faculty office. In front of… literally _every_ teacher for her grade…

 _Oh god_. She winced as realization washed over her but the heat in her stomach didn't subside. She couldn't remember the last time she was this furious _or_ this disrespectful… She would never take those words back, she meant every one of them. Even calling her teacher stupid. He _was_ stupid. And it was terrible and Uraraka was disgusted that he could accept something so horrendous. But she probably could have gone about it with a little more tact…

The silence dragged on and Aizawa only stared back at her, his expression an even mix between total bewilderment and obvious anger.

Uraraka braced herself.

* * *

[Bakugou]

The sun had already set and Uraraka still hadn't returned to the dorms.

Bakugou had spent the past few hours furiously pacing his room and staring out the window, searching for any sign of the floaty-girl's return. Not that he could do anything about it when she did; he'd been confined to his room; an even stricter curfew was put in place especially for him. After class, he had an hour to eat dinner and use any of the dorms amenities before he had to be in his room. He wasn't permitted to leave until an hour before class began and he had to be escorted from the dorms to the rest of campus.

On top of that, Aizawa had also placed a temporary Uraraka Ochako-ban on him until further notice. He wouldn't be participating in regular classes until this was sorted out either. He could only assume that if he was lucky enough not to get kicked out of UA, they'd at least switch him out of 1A. The principal had the final say, but _apparently,_ he needed time to decide. They still needed to talk to Uraraka.

 _She's gonna fuck it up_. He grumbled to himself, trying to be annoyed. For some reason though he couldn't find it in him. He just kept staring out the window.

She _should_ be awake by now. Right? What fucking good was Recovery Girl if she couldn't even fix Round-face? That was her whole god damn job.

Bakugou sighed and flopped back onto his bed.

When he'd decided not to let Uraraka get into trouble he hadn't meant for it to get so out of control. But the lies kept piling on top of each other. As he tried to explain the situation, he just couldn't stop himself—their whole deal may have been her idea, but he'd agreed. And he'd _hurt_ her. _Her._ And he deserved whatever punishment they threw at him for it.

Maybe this Uraraka-ban was for the best…

Bakugou sighed, exhaustion taking hold of him. He didn't fucking want to stay away—but look at what happened when he didn't. He loved the way he felt when they were together. They could be sparring, or arguing, or awkwardly drinking some fucking tea after she'd seen him half-naked, it didn't matter. She didn't listen, she tried harder than anyone he'd ever seen, and there was a crazy ass fire that burned inside of her. He respected the shit out of that. Out of her. She made him feel _good_.

And he hadn't even noticed how shitty all this shit was until she'd made it better.

 _You… like winning too, right?_

He chewed on his bottom lip, vaguely remembering the fat lip Uraraka had gifted him. That felt like ages ago at this point and it had healed days ago, but he wished it was still there. He wished there was something to distract him.

"God damn it." Bakugou growled pushing himself back onto his feet to stare out the window again. He could see the long sidewalk that led all the way to the main school building, lit by the lanterns. It was still empty.

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck this!_

He spun around and charged at his door, determined to figure out what the fuck was going on, but three small knocked stopped him dead in his tracks.

He thought his heart would jump out of his throat—was it Uraraka? Had he missed her arrival? What the hell was he supposed to say? Did he… apologize…? He hadn't thought this far ahead—

" _Kacchan? It's me…_ " A familiar voice sounded from the hallway.

Bakugou felt his eye twitch. That damn nerd was always showing up where he wasn't wanted. He reached for the door handle and yanked it open, making sure to send his worst glower at that green mop. "What the hell do you want, Deku?"

Surprise pulled his eyes wide and he stood with his mouth agape for a moment, "Kacchan are you… alright?"

The blonde firecracker blinked. The confusion must have shown on his face because Deku kept going.

"You look… uh… is it about Uraraka?"

Bakugou felt himself tense and turned his head to peer at his reflection on his wall mirror.

 _Oh._ He stared at himself for a moment, trying not to seem shocked. He really did look like shit. If he hadn't known for a fact that he hadn't been crying, anyone might think he had been. There were deep, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Had… he looked like this all day?

Deku spoke up again, taking the silence as permission to keep going. "I obviously don't know everything that's been going on… with you, obviously, but with Uraraka either. I just… she wasn't in class today. And she's not in her room. Aizawa-sensei wouldn't say anything and uh… Well you've been—"

"I've been _what_?" He hissed.

The idiot furrowed his brow, "She's been spending a lot of time with you recently, Kacchan, I thought you might know where she is. Is… she okay?"

"I took her to Recovery Girl last night." Bakugou responded evenly.

The bright green eyes widened again and Bakugou returned his gaze with a glare. "W-what? Why! What happened?!" He took an eager step forward, one red shoe crossing the threshold into his room. His eyebrows narrowed, and Bakugou knew the concern on his face was genuine. But it still pissed him off.

"None of your fucking business, alright?" He looked down at the foot that had passed into his personal space and he felt the anger he'd been unable to grasp all afternoon rising in his chest, "Get out."

Deku didn't move.

"It _is_ my business, Kacchan! Uraraka's my friend—is she okay? What even happened?!" He took another step, forcing Bakugou to take one back.

His eyes were almost frantic with worry, and Bakugou couldn't fucking take it anymore.

All he saw were the unspoken accusations in that nerd's eyes—just like he'd seen earlier that day in his teachers face. In the faces of those shitty villains, in their disgusting fucking words, their _offer_. He was so tired of all of it. He was _tired_ of the look in people's eyes. Was that all they could see? Did they _want_ him to be bad? Did they want him to be a villain? Did they really all expect that shit out of him?

 _"What say you become one of us?"_

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

"Get the fuck out!" Bakugou finally roared, shoving the green-haired hero back into the hallway. He felt the crackles against his sweaty palms, his eyes stung, and he followed after him.

"Kacchan!" Deku managed to gasp, tripping over his feet and falling flat onto his back. "C-calm down, what are you—hey!" He rolled out of the way just as Bakugou threw a violent explosion that charred the floor.

"It's my fucking fault, alright?! _I_ hurt Uraraka! She's there because of _me_!" He was shouting now, "And she's still there, because I keep fucking shit up!"

Deku whirled around to face him, his posture defensive and cautious. His words came out quickly, pleadingly, "Whatever happened with Uraraka, it was an accident, right? S-sometimes you just go too hard on her, but it's not like you did anything on purpose. I know you wouldn't hurt her, Kacchan, we all know that!"

Bakugou glowered, his anger transforming again, "There you go again with that bullshit—" He took several steps forward, throwing a series of lazy punches that Deku dodged without much effort, "Uraraka isn't some fragile fucking thing for you to coddle, you idiot! She can handle herself, she's kicked my ass on multiple occasions, she-she's not gonna fucking _break_ if you push her! She's gonna be a fucking hero and I just wanted to…" He yelled, a long, frustrated groan, confliction overflowing inside him.

 _I just wanted to help._

He couldn't even figure out what he was angry about anymore. _Why_ was he yelling? Was it because of Uraraka? Was it because this fucking idiot was galivanting around, claiming he was her _friend_ but kept treating her like a sidekick every chance he got? Was it because of the villainy people saw when they looked at him? Was it because those stupid fucking voices still found their way into his brain? Was it because he'd spouted bullshit to his teacher, and he'd eaten it up? Was it because he'd hurt Uraraka? The one person who had forced her way into his life and made him feel better? _What was it?!_

Bakugou's eyes stung and he wiped the hot tears away with his forearm.

Deku stared at him wordlessly, and after too many seconds of silence, Bakugou turned back to his room, ignoring the boys who had stuck their heads out of their doors.

"Get… the fuck outta here. You damn nerd…" Bakugou muttered, reaching his door.

"Kacchan, wait!"

Bakugou ignored him and stepped through the threshold to his room, back to his confinement.


	6. Punishment

**_Disclaimer:_** _I do not own BNHA or any of its characters. Obviously._

* * *

 _Chapter Six: Punishment_

[Day Ten]

[Uraraka]

She wasn't sure how it happened or why, but Uraraka's sudden outburst in the faculty office hadn't ended as poorly as she'd anticipated. Aizawa seemed to understand that the project partners were protecting each other from retribution and decided he would distribute the punishments evenly between the both of them. She hadn't been happy with that outcome until she'd been told what they were dishing out on Bakugou.

Confinement! Like he was a prisoner or something! For breaking school rules and _sparring_. Sure, it ended up in a hospital visit but Uraraka couldn't believe how hard they were dropping the hammer. _And_ they'd basically put a restraining order on him. It was ridiculous.

Although… if she really thought about it, the school year had been full of danger and craziness. It made sense for them to try and control what they actually could. But that didn't mean she had to like it.

But, after her meltdown Aizawa decided to repeal the punishments he'd put in place earlier that day on Bakugou. And then dish out new ones for them both. Equal ones. For the next 20 days until the end of their hero-project, Bakugou and Uraraka would be responsible for cleaning the classroom every day after school, as well as the dorms every other day. They would also be responsible for waking up early each morning and preparing breakfast for their classmates. The two of them also wouldn't be permitted to leave campus.

Essentially, the staff at UA wanted to give them as little free time as possible to keep them from breaking the rules again.

 _"And since you're so keen on protecting one another, I'll assume you don't mind doing all of this together as well."_ Aizawa had said with his usual, pensive expression.

Uraraka yawned, briefly glancing at her alarm.

 _Ugh. 4:00am._ Their additional duties would start today, which meant they'd both have to be up early to start making breakfast. But Uraraka had grown accustomed to doing some kind of physical activity in the mornings. If she couldn't fight Bakugou then she'd have to make do with a run. Which meant an even _earlier_ start to the day.

She rolled out of bed and glanced out her window into the darkness. She could faintly see the tops of the trees rolling in the wind, signaling her to grab her jacket.

"I guess a brisk run will help me wake up…" She mumbled sleepily, pulling her door open and heading for the stairs. For a moment she wondered if she should invite Bakugou—but quickly decided against it. She hadn't really thought of what she'd say to him yet. She hadn't seen him since she'd passed out on their sparring mat and way too much had happened since. She couldn't think of a scenario that wouldn't be awkward so she'd avoid it until she absolutely couldn't anymore…

 _Which gives me a whole hour_ , she thought nervously. _God, what am I supposed to say?_ _Thanks for throwing yourself under the bus for me?_ Uraraka wondered if a bus was even the right analogy. Maybe a tank. Or a freight train.

Uraraka reached the bottom of the stairs and zipped her coat up to her neck before pushing herself into the brisk morning air.

* * *

[Bakugou]

 _I knew she was gonna fuck it up._ Bakugou grumbled to himself, slowly buttoning up his uniform shirt. Now, because she was so _righteous_ , they were sharing the burden for their "misdeeds".

He knew he'd be lying to himself to say he wasn't relieved—sure, he was still in trouble, but the punishment had been reduced to mind-numbing chores. And it wasn't even all bad. He was _good_ at cooking and cleaning, and he had a feeling he'd be better at it than she was anyway. They might not be able to continue their secret sparring lessons, but he could still find a way to win and wipe the floor with her. And he was staying at UA in 1A. Most of his classmates were bumbling idiots but at least he wouldn't have to transfer into that class full of fucking extras.

Bakugou grabbed his blazer and threw it over his shoulder with his backpack and headed down to the kitchen, wondering if Uraraka had beaten him down there.

He kept walking despite the lump in his throat—he still had absolutely no idea what to say to her. Or anyone for that matter. He'd been lucky enough that Deku hadn't reported their scuffle in the hallway, and the few onlookers had only caught the tail end of his tantrum. But still… they'd heard him yelling about Uraraka and that would make for uncomfortable small talk…

He hated small talk.

Bakugou tossed his belongings on the table in the common room before making his way into the kitchen, where Uraraka was floating above the counter, digging through a high cupboard for spices.

"Hey, Round-face."

The floaty-girl's shoulders rolled back in surprise and she turned her head to look at him. She was quiet for a second, lips parted in surprise, but her expression melted into a small smile, "Hey, Bakugou." She pressed her fingertips together and landed softly on the linoleum with a _click_.

Bakugou's stomach fluttered as he remembered the nausea from the last time she'd used her quirk on him and approached her more timidly than he probably ever had, still unsure what to say, "How do you do that?" He asked, scanning over the ingredients she'd put out.

"Do what?"

Bakugou frowned and pressed his fingertips together, imitating the release to her quirk. Her grin widened as he spoke, "Deal with the nausea and shit. I thought I was going to hurl that one time in the gym—every time I see you use it, I feel it." He shivered and narrowed his eyes when he spotted the box of pancake batter on the counter.

"Uh, practice, I guess. That would be like me asking you how you manage to _not_ blow your arms up whenever you use your quirk." She laughed and grabbed a mixing bowl, "Your body just acclimates to it over time, right? It has to."

Bakugou glanced at her profile, remembering when she'd constantly been wearing a stopwatch around her neck to improve the times she could stay afloat. "Right…" He murmured, wondering why he felt so content at this moment.

"Anyway! Um, I thought we could make pancakes! Unless you have a better idea." Her pink cheeks puffed up as she excitedly grabbed the box and shook it above her head.

"No way, Round-face." She quirked an eyebrow at him and his eyes narrowed at the box in her hands, "No fucking way are we using that box shit. I make real pancakes. Get the eggs." He pushed his sleeves up past his elbows and Uraraka ran to the fridge and pulled out the carton. "2 of those. And the milk."

Uraraka grabbed the ingredients and set them on the counter next to him while he mixed everything together, only to be distracted by a sudden burst of laughter. Bakugou blinked and turned his head to glare at his project partner. She held up her hands in mock-surrender, but the laughter didn't cease, in fact, the longer he stared at her, the harder she laughed, until tears were practically streaming down her face.

"What the hell is so funny?!" He finally snapped.

"You… you have…" She motioned to her forehead, gasping for breath between fits of giggles, "Stuff… on your face!"

"Fuck, where?!" He shouted, frantically wiping at his forehead, "Hey! Uraraka! Shut the fuck up and help me, would you?!" His frown deepened and his ears burned.

Her face was red, and her round eyes were scrunched closed so tight, Bakugou thought she might never be able to open them again. She kept slapping her knee with one hand and clasping her side with the other, like it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen and Bakugou wondered why that floating feeling in his stomach just wouldn't go away.

The sun was already setting when Bakugou put the last of the cleaning supplies back into the closet. He took back what he said about the cleaning that morning—just because he was good at it didn't mean he liked it. Their classmates were complete slobs—Bakugou swore the floor around Kirishima's desk was absolutely caked in filth. How in the hell did so few teenagers create such a mess in _one_ day?

"Now we have to go back to the dorms and clean that…" Uraraka groaned from the other side of the classroom. She had slid herself into Bakugou's desk and had her head buried in her arms. Her body was totally deflated but her hair was sticking out every which way.

"You wouldn't have to do any of this if you'd just let me take the fall." Bakugou retorted with a sigh.

She stiffened immediately and raised her head to look at him, eyes dark and furious, "Yeah and then you'd be in 1B, dummy."

Bakugou shrugged, hoping he appeared indifferent.

She stood quickly, the chair scraping against the floor, "Or kicked out of UA!" She huffed, "Besides, what you told Aizawa-sensei was totally out of line, you know!" She took several long strides so that she was standing directly in front of him, "How are you gonna be the number one hero if you get kicked out of your first year of school?" She poked his chest with one padded finger and glared up at him.

He looked down at her finger and then back at her face, faintly remembering the feeling of her skin on his forehead when she'd lifted him from the nightmare, "They weren't gonna kick me out, dumbass." He rolled his eyes and gently pushed her hand away, moving toward the door. But she side-stepped to block his path.

"Why would you even risk that, huh? You're crazy!"

" _You're_ crazy! You're the one who ended up in the hospital and then went and told them I was lying. I don't know why they even believed you." He growled, crossing his arms, "I hurt _you…_ I… _You_ got hurt, you shouldn't have to be doing all this bullshit." Bakugou swallowed hard, watching her expression morph from anger to guilt to sadness in rapid succession.

"Bakugou…"

"C'mon, we have to go clean the dorms." He finally tore himself from her chestnut gaze and pushed past her to the door.

* * *

[Uraraka]

 _He's not mad at me…_ Uraraka thought, tightness gripping her chest as she followed behind Bakugou Katsuki. _I thought he'd be_ mad _. But he's…_

She shook her head, and let her eyes fall to the concrete as they walked. Ever fiber of her being had thought he'd just be really, _really_ mad that she'd let herself get hurt. But that didn't seem like the case. He was blaming himself. That was why he told Aizawa he'd done all of those terrible things. Maybe he believed he deserved it, because he thought he was the one that hurt her. He was shouldering that guilt. But the shocking thing was that he was feeling that guilt at all…

Uraraka bit her lip, realizing she'd done it again. She kept thinking of Bakugou as something other than what he was, like he couldn't feel the same way everyone else did. He was still a kid, just like she was, and he was capable of feeling all the emotions she did. He was powerful and strong and so incredibly motivated but that didn't mean he was perfect or unbreakable.

She almost snorted. _Perfect_. She knew he wasn't perfect. They'd only been working together for a short while, but she'd been able to see so many more sides to him than she ever thought possible. She'd seen more sides than she knew existed within him. Even so, she'd failed to look at things from his perspective again. If their positions had been reversed and he'd passed out in the middle of their sparring session, she would be overcome with guilt. She'd feel like a monster. She'd forgotten, once again, that Bakugou could feel like that too.

"Bakugou, I'm sorry." Uraraka said suddenly, grabbing onto the sleeve of his blazer. He didn't turn to face her, but he stopped walking, so she continued, "I kept thinking you'd be disappointed if I went to see Recovery girl for my bruises… But that was so _stupid_! I wanted to… be like you, I guess? I thought I could push through it. I kept thinking it would make me stronger… I didn't realize how bad it was and… and I shouldn't have hidden it. I'm sorry I made you worry and… thank you for carrying me there…" Uraraka stumbled over her words. It didn't feel like enough. Her cheeks burned. And his silence was unbearable. "C-c'mon, Bakugou, are you just gonna ignore me or—"

"Uraraka."

She gulped, taken aback by the sternness in his voice and pulled her hand away from his blazer when he turned around. His eyes were dark, narrowed slits, and something about his expression crushed her.

"Don't blow this out of proportion." His voice was even and monotone, "I don't give a shit, alright? About your apology or this… assignment, or that you're my partner, or about Recovery Girl. You hear me? It just pissed me off that I had to carry you all the way over there when you passed out. Got it? We're _not_ friends."

Uraraka frowned, "You shouldn't say things you don't mean."

This wasn't _fair_. Were things always going to be this way? Would they just keep getting closer and then falling back to square one? Would he just continue to shut her out whenever he felt _any_ sort of vulnerability? She knew he was capable of more than this. He'd let her see the darkest part of himself, albeit unwillingly… he let her stay in his room and he'd made her tea. And he let her be there for him. He kept acting like he didn't want that, like they weren't friends. But he definitely wanted _something_. She did too. At first it had just been a competent project partner, so she didn't fail her assignment, but she felt connected to him now. She didn't even care about that now. She cared about him. She didn't want to see him suffer. She wanted to be a shoulder he could lean on or cry on or _whatever_.

Bakugou stared back at her for a moment before sighing and turning his gaze to the ground. And then, quietly, he mumbled, "You're right…"

She thought she'd imagined it.

There was no way, _no way in hell_ , he'd just conceded. And with so little prodding.

 _This whole day has been a dream_. Uraraka thought suddenly. _I'm still passed out in the infirmary. Or dead._

He turned back to her quickly, ears turning a bright shade of red, brow furrowed in annoyance. Almost like he was angry that she hadn't responded in one way or the other. Another moment passed, and as he opened his mouth to speak once more, she was certain this was all a dream.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice." It was fast grumble, like he was trying to spit the words out as quickly as he could and just get it over with.

Uraraka forgot how to breathe.

Had… had Bakugou Katsuki, _the_ Bakugou Katsuki, the guy who wanted to call himself Lord Explosion Murder, just… apologized?

It felt like someone had just reached into her abdomen and squeezed. She couldn't stop a huge, goofy smile from pulling at her cheeks. Never in a million years had she thought the two of them would have this dynamic. It was awkward half the time and super weird, but she absolutely loved it. The friendship that had started blooming wasn't just in her head—despite the brash way Bakugou went about things, he cared about her too, at least to some degree. Enough to agree to spar with her and carry her to the infirmary and try his hardest to make sure she wouldn't get punished for her own idea. He cared enough to feel guilty and lash out and apologize… Uraraka felt her cheeks grow warm in the evening breeze and shook her head, "It's okay, Bakugou. I'm sorry too."

"I know," He responded, a grin taking over his face, "You said that already, dumbass."

Uraraka rolled her eyes and began walking once more, this time keeping in step with the explosive boy.

"Don't get any bright ideas, Angel-face, we're still not friends."

"Hm, yes we are."

 _Angel-face… was that a new one?_

"You're fucking high—"

"Nope! We are officially friends now, Bakugou Katsuki! I mean, sheesh, we just had a heart-to-heart in the middle of campus, friendship is required now." She grinned at him and laughed at his exasperated expression, "So you better get used to me! I'm not going anywhere!"


	7. Feelings

**A/N:** Been awhile, FF.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own BNHA or any of its characters. Obviously.

* * *

 _Chapter Seven: Feelings_

[Day Eleven]

[Uraraka]

Uraraka had woken herself up in the middle of the night with an idea. A _good_ idea. Maybe even a great one…

The sun still hadn't broken over the horizon, but she was just too excited to get back to sleep. Her dreams had been filled with her explosive project partner— _oh, wait, not like that_ —and even though she realized just how weird that might be, she was so, _so_ excited. She wasn't 100% sure how Bakugou's quirk worked, they hadn't ever had an in-depth conversation about it, but she didn't see a reason why her idea wouldn't be possible.

They could make a _bomb_! Well, figuratively of course. Bakugou was a bomb in his own right and equally as volatile. But if he were to be above their opponent, say with Uraraka's ability to send him high into the air, he could-quite literally-drop in on their opponents like an _actual_ bomb.

She smiled to herself, hopping off her bed with a huff and ignoring the face of her alarm clock that read: _03:37_.

It would be their power-move! Honestly, she hadn't been able to come up with a way to morph their quirks into anything compatible until now. But after her dream, it seemed so _obvious_. If Bakugou were floating above, he could easily maneuver around with his explosions without having to exert as much force as he'd used when he'd escaped from the League of Villains. If he could launch himself into the air and practically _fly_ , there was no way he wouldn't be able to use smaller—hopefully more controlled—blasts to send himself in any direction he wanted to go.

Uraraka rubbed her fingertips against each other, knowing the grin on her face while she was alone in her dark room was undoubtedly strange, and she bubbled with anticipation.

The only issue she could see with her plan was getting her partner to actually _agree_ to it or try it for that matter…

Bakugou had become much more open with her over this last week but that didn't mean he'd be open to her idea or be willing to get nauseous—like, really nauseous—over an assignment that he wasn't happy with in the first place. Normally, Uraraka would have asked Deku or Ilda for their advice but considering that their teachers had made a point to separate each group during the practices they'd had, it didn't seem like a smart idea to reveal anything to them.

Not to mention… how would she explain how she'd came up with it?

 _"Hey guys, I had a dream about Bakugou and his quirk and thought of a way to put our abilities together into the ultimate move!"_

Nope. No way.

Uraraka's excitement tapered off as she wondered exactly how she would explain it to Bakugou.

"I'm being stupid," She grumbled to herself, sitting back on her bed with a sigh. She didn't have to mention the dream at _all_. That wasn't the important part. All that mattered was the idea. After all, it wasn't like it meant anything. They'd been spending a lot of time together, they were working on an assignment together, they lived on the same floor in the same building. It was… totally, completely, and perfectly normal to have a dream about a friend… training in a field by himself in the setting sun, working hard on his form and control and blowing things up, all while… shirtless…

 _Oh my god._ Uraraka whipped her hands to face, hiding her reddening cheeks from the empty walls of her room but mostly from herself. It was normal… wasn't it? She'd probably had dreams about her friends before… although now that she tried to recall if she had, her mind was coming up empty… It was Bakugou's fault anyway for coming out of his bathroom practically naked! If it weren't for that her dream would have been totally unexceptional.

It didn't mean a thing.

Uraraka nodded to herself and pushed herself back to her feet once more.

If she'd been too pumped up to get back to sleep before, there was no way in hell she'd be able to go back to bed now. If she hurried, she'd be able to get in an extra-long embarrassment-reducing jog before class. She couldn't help but think that she suddenly, sorely needed it.

* * *

[Bakugou]

Uraraka was acting weird.

Not that she wasn't usually weird. But she'd barely spoken a word since they'd met each other in the kitchen and started making their classmate's breakfast. There was a quiet hello, a few words in response to his food suggestion, and that was it. They cooked in complete silence. Typically, Bakugou couldn't get her to shut her mouth for more than 30 seconds at a time—if he was lucky—and now all of a sudden, she'd become a fucking mute. He should have been overjoyed. He should have been over the god damn moon. But for some reason, it was grating on his nerves.

With each _clink_ of a plate she set on the counter in the mind-numbingly silent kitchen, Bakugou felt his anger go up a notch.

Just yesterday she'd been going on and on about how they were _friends_ now and laughing and smiling at his embarrassment—he still couldn't believe she'd managed to get an apology out of him—but now, _now_ she was being fucking weird. Again. There was no way she was still injured after Recovery Girl had fixed her up, she hadn't been angry about their punishment after they talked it out, so what the hell was it?

Bakugou ground his teeth together and glared as hard as he was able into the tiled wall before him, visualizing what it might look like if he blew it to pieces.

 _Clink_.

He plunged his hands back into the soapy water, scrubbing furiously at the submerged dishes. Trying, desperately, to ignore the frustration threatening to overflow and the overwhelming urge to glance in her direction.

 _Clink_.

What the fuck was up with this? Why did he care that she wasn't talking? Why did he give a single shit that she'd avoided any and all eye contact that morning? Why was this silence more irritating than anything he'd dealt with in the last eleven days since he'd been forced to deal with this stupid, floaty, round-faced girl? Why was this more irritating than when she just wouldn't shut up?

 _Clink._

He was going to lose his mind. This was it. It wouldn't be Deku, it wouldn't be that half-and-half prick, it wouldn't be those nasty fucking voices or his classmates or this stupid assignment. It would be Uraraka Ochako. As she set those god damn plates on the counter in absolute, rage-inducing, deafening _fucking silence._

 _Clink._

"I am going to turn this shitty building into _ash_ if you don't cut that the fuck out!"

Bakugou's voice had come out even louder than he'd meant it to. The clatter from tossing the pan he'd been washing onto the counter hadn't helped much to dampen the sound either. He spun around to face her, finally meeting her widened chestnut eyes. For a moment, and only a moment, he forgot why he was angry.

Then she spoke.

"Uh…" Uraraka stared back at him, dumbfounded, as if she hadn't been egging him on the entire morning, "Cut what out?"

His nostrils flared, "You never shut up. Seriously. Never. And today you won't say a word! It's pissing me the hell off! You could talk about the weather for all I care, but this," He gestured wildly in her direction, soapy water flying from his fingertips, " _This_ shit you're doing is un-fucking-bearable!"

She was silent once again, for a blink and a heartbeat, before her lips twitched into a wide smile and a loud laugh echoed throughout the kitchen.

 _Now she was laughing._ It was like she was _asking_ to be incinerated.

But he didn't hate it.

"Y-you… want me to… talk?" She gasped between giggles and intermittent snorts.

Bakugou could only stare at her, bewildered by his own outburst. And by the undeniable fact that her laugh was as disgustingly endearing as it was weird.

 _No._ He didn't. Why would he want her to talk? Why _did_ he want her to talk? A week ago, he would have been screaming at her for doing the exact opposite. A mixture of confusion and curiosity tied a knot in the center of his chest as he stared back at her face, scrunched up in obnoxious laughter, followed closely by an embarrassment that made his blood boil. This was annoying. Bakugou had dealt with it before, but not understanding himself was starting to get agonizing. He was so used to being wrapped up in the familiar, in the anger and the yelling, in being the number-one hero and stomping on anyone that even fucking dared to get in his way. Then Uraraka floated in and suddenly he was questioning… things. Questioning _himself_. He didn't like not understanding shit. But there was something about the knot that had wound itself tightly in his chest that he couldn't bring himself to hate either. Like that ridiculous laugh.

"No." He finally answered, turning back towards the sink again. He wasn't sure why he lied.

Her laughter eventually tapered off awkwardly and the two of them finished washing the dishes and plating the breakfast in more silence.

* * *

[Uraraka]

As the school day crept to a close, Uraraka hated herself more and more. There was something wrong with her, she knew it, she knew she was being a baby. But even knowing that, she continued to ignore Bakugou for the entire day. She felt his eyes on her several times throughout class, undoubtedly sharp, under a heavy scowl… But she could never bring herself to look back at him. It was exhausting. She'd been unapologetically relieved when Aizawa told them there wouldn't be any project work that day—probably because she wouldn't have been allowed to participate—and the class was forced to sit through lectures instead. She'd kept her eyes trained on the board, staring but not absorbing a bit of the information. Her notebook was blank.

She must have been quiet enough to worry both Deku and Ilda because they bombarded her with question after question at lunch. Luckily though, they seemed satisfied enough with her answer that she had barely gotten any sleep. Which wasn't entirely false…

Still, she felt bad for lying. But Uraraka wasn't sure how to put her swirl of emotions and embarrassment into words. She couldn't even figure out why she was so, _so_ embarrassed in the first place. It was a dream that just so happened to include Bakugou… a dream about inspiration and hero-work… But they would have thought it was weird that she dreamt about Bakugou and she didn't want Deku thinking she had a crush on him or anything.

 _"Now, go running back to that damn nerd that you love so much, and_ get away from me _."_

Wait.

Uraraka had to physically cover her mouth with her hand to suppress her groan. Why did it _matter_ what Deku thought about her crush on Bakugou?!

 _Wait!_

 _I don't have a crush on Bakugou!_

Her entire body was on fire, she was certain she'd combust at any moment. All she could think about was how grateful she was that her desk was in the back of the room.

This was all starting to be way too much for her brain to handle. There was no way in hell she _liked_ him. Like that. They were friends now, even if she'd sort of forced him into it. He was angry and sometimes even downright intolerable. Sometimes he was unbelievably, unforgivably mean. He yelled at her more often than not and threatened to blow her up just this morning! He was usually cruel and always crass, and he gave her nicknames she didn't like…

 _"Don't get any bright ideas, Angel-face, we're still not friends."_

Except for maybe one…

But he also treated her like a hero… and an equal… and Bakugou never pulled his punches when they fought. He never acted like she was a soft, weak girl that needed protecting. Which was nice. She knew his respect wasn't easily earned and it made her heart swell with joy that he actually did respect her enough to treat her the way he did. She liked it…

Uraraka felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she tried again to tear her mind away from her project partner and back to her teacher. His lips were moving but everything he said sounded like it was in a different language. No, no, no. This was not good. Not for her studies and _definitely_ not for her health.

She didn't have time for this right now; she wasn't in UA to figure out if she liked one boy or another— _Oh geez, I don't!_ —she was there to become a hero. It didn't matter if she was pro-material or sidekick-material, or _whatever_ , she wanted to be a hero. She would be! She didn't want to be one of those girls on TV that always wondered and obsessed over getting a boyfriend or falling in love. It wasn't _cool_ and she didn't think it was what heroes would do.

Still…

Uraraka knew she'd have to sort out her thoughts eventually. She couldn't ignore him forever, plus she wanted to tell him about her idea about their quirks. They still had an assignment to do.

 _That's right,_ she reminded herself. They had only become so close over the last couple of days because of school. If it hadn't been for that, neither of them really would have interacted with one another. They really had nothing in common at all. Except for the fact that they both wanted to be heroes, which was nothing special, everyone here wanted the exact same thing. Once this project was over there wouldn't even be a reason for them to talk anymore, Bakugou would go back to pretending she didn't exist, she could go back to spending her free time with Deku and Ilda and go back to how things were. She wouldn't have to deal with the name calling or the outbursts, she could just go back to her normal routine.

Uraraka sighed and smiled to herself, waiting for the relief of her realization to engulf her.

But it never came.

Instead, it felt like she was right back to where she was a few months ago with her quirk, with a terrible, tight nausea gripping her insides. A new wave of confusion washed over her; wasn't she supposed to feel better? Why did the idea of returning to normalcy, of not talking to the loud, crazy-haired boy, make her feel like the _world was ending_?

Before Uraraka could even begin untangling the mess she'd made inside her head, the bell rang, and class was over.

She finally tilted her eyes towards Bakugou's desk only to find it empty.

Once Aizawa and the rest of her classmates filed out of the doors, Uraraka found herself alone in the classroom. She waited a few minutes before taking the cleaning supplies out of the closet but Bakugou never showed up for their chores.

* * *

[Day Twelve]

[Uraraka]

"So, I… had an idea." Uraraka practically mumbled despite the distance between her and Bakugou.

He didn't say anything. In fact, he hadn't said a single word to her since yesterday morning when he freaked out in the kitchen. She knew that she'd started the whole thing by being awkward in the first place, but Bakugou had since taken it to an entirely new level. After not showing up to clean the classroom the previous day, he'd disappeared into his room. Then this morning, he'd apparently woken up earlier than normal and then made the breakfast for their classmates on his own and left the dorms before she'd even made her way downstairs to help. It was already cold by the time she'd grabbed her portion and ate silently beside her friends.

Since Aizawa had cancelled the hero-assignment practice the previous day, he'd allotted each group two free hours of individual practice in the gym today. Which would have been the perfect time to discuss the assignment and maybe even practice her idea…

But it already been ten minutes and Bakugou was just sitting on the other end of the practice mat with an intimidating scowl permanently fixated on his face.

Honestly, Uraraka had been surprised when her teacher had given them the first private session and left them unsupervised. After their rule-breaking sparring she had assumed every session they had would be watched over like a hawk, but they hadn't even been given a warning. Maybe they were preoccupied with something or thought the two of them had learned their lesson? She couldn't be sure. What she was sure of, however, was that Bakugou Katsuki was pissed at her.

She tried again, a little louder this time, "I have an idea. For our assignment."

Silence.

 _Well, this is going to be difficult…_

Uraraka ignored her growing frustration and walked over to him. She sat down across from him on the mat, knees a few inches apart, "Bakugou, are you listening to me? This is going to be a _really_ long two hours if you're like this." It was unfair for her to say, she knew that. The look on his face suggested the same thing. "I'm sorry, okay? But I have a really cool idea and I think we should try it!"

"Go for it, Round-face." He muttered.

She sighed, relieved that he'd spoken and irritated at his indifference, and then began explaining her idea with less confidence than she'd intended. Of course, she left out _how_ she came up with it in the first place. Even so, Bakugou seemed less than impressed when she finished.

His scowl deepened, "No way in hell."

She frowned, ignoring the sting in her chest, "What? Why not! I mean, it won't be easy for you to deal with the nausea but—"

"I said _no way_." His voice was sharp. There was obvious hurt somewhere in there. His voice was missing its usual venom. "It's a shitty idea, think of something else."

"No!" It was a yell, which caused his angry mask to falter for just a second, "I won't! We have to at least try it before you—before you… shit all over it! I thought really hard about this, okay?! It'll work!" Uraraka couldn't remember the last time she was this upset. Before this moment, she thought the angriest she'd ever been was when Bakugou had tried to take the full blow of her suggestion and had said all those terrible lies about himself to Aizawa. But here he was, pushing that line, tearing down something she had been proud of. She didn't care that she'd started all of this awkwardness in the first place right after they'd found common ground, she didn't care if she was being irrational.

It wasn't _fair_.

Bakugou scoffed, something typical for him, but this time it set her teeth on edge.

" _Fine_!" She shouted. If he wouldn't try it willingly, she'd _make_ him try. With a huff, Uraraka reached for his leg. He'd have no choice but to play along if she sent him upward.

Bakugou was faster, jerking his leg away and jumping to his feet before she could even graze the fabric of his pants, as if he'd been expecting it, "Don't _even_ think about it, Uraraka!" He growled through clenched teeth, stepping back into a defensive stance, "I'll kill you!" His voice had lost all the playful excitement it had the last time he said those words.

She rose to her feet, shoving her bangs from her eyes, and stepped towards him. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she had the upper hand. All it would take was a single tap. Only one fingertip had to touch him for her to emerge triumphant and get him to listen to her. Well, he'd either listen and try it or he'd float up to the rafters. She wondered whether his stubbornness or his aversion to nausea would win out first…

But she was getting ahead of herself.

She had to touch him first.

* * *

[Bakugou]

Bakugou had never seen her like this before.

He had seen Uraraka frustrated, elated, defiant, defeated, and probably a million other ways since their partnership had begun. If he was being honest, he thought he'd seen it all. She'd seemed straightforward, if not simple at times, but _this_ was different. It was like the look in her eyes at the sports festival turned up to 1000. There was a certain fury in her face that was completely foreign. The grin that pulled at her cheeks was practically maniacal.

It lit a fire in his stomach.

"Watch out, Bakugou Katsuki." She taunted, taking another step towards him.

If he'd thought she was acting weird yesterday with all her silence, he had obviously never expected _this_.

Had Uraraka Ochako _seriously_ just threatened him? _Him_?

"Fuck off, Uraraka."

He didn't like that floating shit and it was obvious that she'd figured that out. He cursed himself for flinching away like that, encouraging her. She seemed to take it as a challenge, and as much as this angry Uraraka intrigued him, his hatred for being weightless overtook all else. He couldn't even understand why she was so pissed off; she was the one who had ignored him first. She had started it. He'd only been giving her a taste of her own medicine.

Then she charged at him, arm outstretched, and he barely side-stepped out of the way before a slap to the face could have sent him floating upward. _Aggressive._ She didn't miss a beat, using her momentum to launch herself back at him again; she wasn't sloppy anymore. Annoyed, Bakugou realized that was because of all the angry coaching he'd given her during their matches. She understood how he fought now and had adjusted her techniques to counter him. They had an obvious difference in strength, but he couldn't even take advantage of it if he had to stay out of arm's reach.

Bakugou dropped to his knees, once again barely missing her fingertips, and rolled left. Before he could even stand himself back up, she was on him again, this time aiming for his left arm. He grabbed her wrist at the last second, and then caught the other immediately after in his free hand as she came in for the counter.

Just as he opened his mouth to tell her to fuck off _again_ , she lifted her leg and kicked him square in the gut, no doubt in an effort to push him off and get him to let go. Instead, he tightened his grip as he fell backward and tossed her over his head, letting go of her wrists just before her shoulders could dislocate from their sockets. She landed on her back with a loud _oomph_ and he stood up, surprised at how hard he was already breathing, and fucking _shocked_ that she'd managed to straight up knock the wind out of him with her kick.

"What the fuck… is _wrong_ with you?!" He roared, taking a few steps back, grateful that he'd finally gotten her to slow down.

"Me? You're the one… who won't listen to me!" She huffed, finally getting back to her feet.

Bakugou could only glare back at her in response. It wasn't that he thought her idea was bad, he actually loved the thought of falling through the air and becoming a devastating bomb, and he loved that she'd come up with it. Actually, if didn't hate the no-gravity shit, and he hadn't been pissed off at her, he would have considered it. It was a good idea.

But he _did_ hate it, and he _was_ pissed off.

He knew that it shouldn't bother him this much. Her weird silence. Ignoring him. But it _did_ and the fact that he was so bothered by it only bothered him more. And he thought that maybe, if he did the same thing she'd done, it would make him feel better. Even though he had no fucking idea _why_.

It hadn't.

It had only served to piss her off—which was new—and now he had to deal with it. Because Uraraka was finally standing again, she'd caught her breath, and she was coming after him once more.

It continued for what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than a few minutes; Uraraka would barrage him with countless swings, he'd barely miss the graze of her fingers, eventually she'd create a small opening and he'd incapacitate her just long enough for the two of them to suck in as much oxygen as they could manage. Then they'd do the whole dance over again.

Bakugou really, _really_ , didn't like being on the defensive. But there was a small part of him that was _thrilled_ at the same time. He couldn't explain it. Watching her get angry, watching her attack with reckless abandon, watching this side of Uraraka he hadn't seen prior to this moment was _fun_. If he hadn't been so busy watching her hands and avoiding her flurry of attacks, he would have been smiling. It was crazy, he didn't understand how he could be so furious and so _fucking_ excited at the same time.

Bakugou had thought it once before and dismissed himself immediately, but he was positive now:

He liked her.

 _Like that._

He didn't know how it had happened or why, but he loved seeing the parts of this weird, floaty-girl that he knew no one else had seen. He liked the expressions she made. He liked how she would blow stray hairs from her face with a huff and the funny way her cheeks puffed when she was frustrated. The snorting when she laughed. It was weird. And he liked it, anyway.

It was a strange feeling. He had no fucking idea what to do with it or what it meant or if it even mattered, but...

No. That wasn't quite right. He knew it mattered. It felt important. And freeing. And for the first time in a while, Bakugou didn't even remember the voices that always taunted him in his head or the smell of the bar or the venomous words oozing from sickening mouths. He didn't feel the crushing weight of the guilt that had been riding around on his shoulders for months ever since All Might had fought All For One; his own voice wasn't there to tell him that his hero was retired because _he_ was weak, that it was _his_ fault he got captured, that if he hadn't the world would still have All Might.

The crashing waves of his mind weren't threatening to pull him under the surf and drown him in that funny little creature called guilt. He could still feel himself in the water, soaking and freezing him to the core, but it had stilled, and he could finally see the world around him. Now, he could see the shore just at the edge of the horizon.

Finally, Bakugou stopped moving and let his hands fall to his sides.

Uraraka hesitated for just a moment, confusion scrunching her expression just before she lunged at him one final time. Then, when he thought she'd slap him full force in the face, her hand stopped just inches from his cheek. Her dark brows knit together, and she pursed her lips, obviously unsure what to make of his surrender.

He wasn't really sure either. It wasn't like him. But he thought that maybe, just maybe, by some wild stretch of his own imagination that _she_ was standing on that shore in the distance, calling out to him. Guiding him.

"Do you… want to try it now?" She asked through a skeptical frown, tilting her head slightly.

Bakugou shrugged, fighting the grin that threatened to surface on his face. He took her hand, the one that had pulled him from those nightmares, and pressed her padded index finger to his forehead.

"Whenever you're ready, Uraraka."


	8. Confession

**Disclaimer:** I don't own BNHA or any of its characters. Obviously.

* * *

 _Chapter Eight: Confession_

[Day Fourteen]

[Bakugou]

It was Thursday. One of those days that Bakugou usually went through on autopilot. The school week was almost over, he could do whatever the hell he wanted in a few days, he wouldn't have to deal with lectures or his classmates or any outside bullshit. In a few days he'd be able to train as much as he wanted or sleep until noon or go to the gym or watch TV all damn day if he felt like it. His only responsibilities revolved around cleaning and Uraraka—neither of which he hated.

It was Thursday but Bakugou, and the rest of the students at UA were confined to their respective dorms until further notice.

Class had been cancelled.

Bakugou looked around the common room, where most of his classmates had congregated that morning when the news broke. Half of them were excited, the other half annoyed they'd still gotten up early. But none of the idiots seemed the least bit worried about a thing. Sure, the teachers hadn't given them any reason to worry, exactly… In fact, they hadn't given them a single reason at all as to _why_ they had to stay indoors all god damn day, but it was abnormal. Which should be cause for some sort of fucking concern especially after everything that had happened at UA since the school year began, and to them specifically. Classes never got cancelled randomly in the middle of the week.

Bakugou scowled at the lot of them, trying to curb his annoyance as best as he could manage.

It was suspicious. He was certain something was going on. Even if it wasn't dangerous enough to leave a teacher at each dorm, it was _something_ enough to keep them all together in the safest buildings on campus.

He tapped his fingers against his arm and let his frown deepen.

 _Idiots._ All of them. This was wrong, something was fucking _wrong_ and all they kept blabbering about to each other were their weekend plans. Some provided stupid, shallow explanations like _"They're tired from working_ us _to death!"_ and _"Maybe they'll just cancel tomorrow too, and we'll get a long weekend!"_ like the group of them hadn't dealt with shit that had never happened at UA before their school year started. Bakugou hadn't had high expectations for his classmates in the beginning but they'd all been at least strong enough to survive all the shit that had happened. Their attitudes now were burning away the _few_ previous, positive thoughts he'd had about them.

"Should we play a game or something?" Kirishima whined from across the room, sprawled out on the couch, obvious boredom in his voice. He'd already changed back into his lounging clothes and deflated his shitty hair.

"Shut up, idiot." Bakugou snapped from the corner. They were all so relaxed. How could they all be so relaxed? Did they forget the forest or Stain or those shitty villains or—

Bakugou stopped himself and swallowed the lump in his throat.

 _That's_ why he was getting so worked up over this shit.

He needed to calm down. Those voices had been quiet but if he kept thinking about it, he couldn't be sure they'd stay that way. He didn't want them to come back. They couldn't. If they did…

"Oh, I know!" Ashido jumped up from the armchair and grinned, "Truth or dare!"

 _Oh, my fucking god._ Bakugou groaned and stormed out of common room as quickly as he could manage. He couldn't be responsible for the damage he'd cause if they tried to get him caught up in their games. To the dorm or them. He didn't understand their attitudes—he _never_ had—but all of this was way too fucking cheery for his liking.

After retreating to the kitchen, Bakugou let out a sigh and leaned against the counter, fighting the tightening of his chest and the emerging memories that came with it. It took all his energy just to tune out the chatter in the other room. It wasn't fear creeping into his head; he wasn't afraid of fighting or facing whatever came at him. It was the uncertainty that freaked him out. Bakugou didn't like not knowing what was going on, he didn't like not knowing what was going to _happen_.

He glared into the tiled floor and blinked away the rotting floorboards that threatened to emerge from his mind, all through gritted teeth.

This was no good. Maybe his classmates weren't the ones being ridiculous here. If every single one of them were satisfied with Eraser Head's excuse for today's class cancellation, and there wasn't anything out of the ordinary, and _no one_ else felt his suspicions, were they even valid? Was he being paranoid because of those shitty voices or… what? The staff had told them everything was fine. And they were all Pros. If everything was fine, then he should just shut up and stop being this pathetic fucking mess and get over it—

 _"Okay Uraraka, your turn! Truth or dare?"_

Bakugou's ears pricked up, somewhat grateful for the distraction from his thoughts.

 _Uraraka._ They hadn't had much time to talk since their allotted time in the gym a few days ago. Since they'd started working on a new move and he'd decided… how he _felt_. Since he decided that he didn't _hate_ her…

He felt the heat on his cheeks and shook his head in annoyance, desperately trying to shake her face from his mind. It was so unbelievably fucking lame. So, _so_ fucking uncool. Although, he couldn't even lie to himself and say he minded it. Not really. It's not like it mattered anyway. A crush—or whatever the hell it was—would go away eventually. For now, he decided he'd enjoy it for what it was. It made him feel better. _She_ made him feel better. That would be enough.

The more he thought about it, the crazier he felt and the more he realized that it was totally fucking insane. He wasn't… like that. Normally. He'd never thought about love or romance or any of that mushy shit before, but she'd gotten into his head and wormed her way into all his fucking thoughts like a parasite or something. He didn't understand how he could be so annoyed and embarrassingly giddy about it at the same time.

 _"I don't know, guys… should we really be playing around right now?"_

Despite the wall between Bakugou and his classmates, he could hear the concern in Uraraka's voice. A grin threatened to overtake his face; unwarranted pride swelled up in his stomach—she could tell there was something off too. Maybe, in some ways, they were similar…

 _"Fine, fine, Uraraka picks truth then!"_

 _"No, I didn't—"_

 _"Okay, truth! Are… you in love with Midoriya?"_

Several gasps and a couple of _ooh's_ sounded from the common room, inciting loud, nervous laughter and unconvincing retorts from Uraraka herself, reminding Bakugou of something that he had conveniently forgotten. Maybe he'd forgotten because he'd been so caught up in the assignment bullshit or because she'd taken up so much of his time lately or because of the nightmares and the voices threatening his god damn sanity…

Uraraka _loved_ that shitty mop. Fucking Deku who loved looking at him like he was inferior, like he needed to be saved. Fucking Deku who looked at _her_ like she was a flower in constant threat of being trampled on. It was the thing he'd hated about her from the start—the way she followed him around like a lost dog with this frail mask, stumbling over her words, getting her puffy round-face all red and pathetic. She was Deku's little fan-girl. It felt like forever ago, but he'd known it back then. Back when he'd told her to get lost. But he'd made himself forget; he'd been looking at everything through rose-colored lenses like a fucking idiot. Because he'd only been looking at the parts of her that he liked; the strong, defiant, unbreakable side that he felt like only he got to see. The parts of her that he thought might like him.

Bakugou had never had the intention of telling her how he felt. He barely understood it and the idea of putting it to words was headache inducing. But the thought had crossed his mind, briefly, before bed the night before. Obviously, he'd shoved it away immediately to the furthest corners of his mind. What good would it do? What would he want from her? She'd never return his feelings, and even if by some crazy fucking twist of fate, she loved _him_ instead of Deku… then what? He didn't want a girlfriend. He didn't want to hold hands or buy flowers—the thought alone made him shiver—he didn't care about any of that. There wasn't _time_ for any of that. Besides, he'd decided it was a temporary feeling. Liking Uraraka was fucking batshit crazy but not nearly as crazy as _telling_ her that he did.

Still, despite all of that, Bakugou couldn't help the wave of hurt and jealousy that swept over him as he listened to his classmates on the other side of the wall. It was stupid, _so fucking stupid_ , but a part of him wished that she hadn't laughed like that or stuttered like she did and could have just said: no. Deep down, he wished his classmates had asked about _him_ , not Deku, so he could have heard her response to that instead. He didn't want to wish it, but he couldn't help it. He hated this nauseating, chilling feeling encapsulating his limbs, tightening his chest, weighing down his stomach…

 _"Don't tease her, you guys… I-it's not like that…"_ Deku's voice broke through the laughter.

 _"R-right! I admire Deku because he's a great hero. He's just my friend, so…"_

 _Liar_. Bakugou thought suddenly, wiping his sweaty palms against his pants, reveling in that familiar feeling of rage. He grabbed onto it and let it smother everything else. It didn't feel good right now, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It felt better than everything else he was feeling in that moment.

There was more laughter on the other side of the door from his classmates and more frantic denial from both Deku and Uraraka…

It fucking _sucked_.

He couldn't take it anymore. With a grunt he forced himself to the door and shoved it open. The loud sound of it hitting the wall halted all the childish games and smiles and cackling almost immediately. He pushed through them, heading for the stairs, ignoring the bewildered eyes of his classmates and the abrupt silence that followed his entrance.

He didn't look at them—he _couldn't_ —as he rounded the corner and stomped up the stairs.

For an instant he thought Uraraka might follow him, like she'd done so many times before, but she didn't this time. Instead, he found himself alone on the second floor.

* * *

[Uraraka]

 _Maybe I should go check on him…_

Uraraka had no idea what had caused that outburst— actually, she wasn't even sure she could call it that. It wasn't a typical Bakugou explosion. Usually there would be yelling, some death threats, maybe some sparky palms… But he hadn't said a word. His lips were pressed into a tight, definitive line, accompanied by a somber glower. She bit her lip, suddenly reminded of his unsettling silence from just a couple weeks ago, after the League of Villains and All For One… how far away he was, carrying everything on his own.

But whatever expression he'd been wearing when he nearly broke the kitchen door was totally new to her. She'd seen a wide range of Bakugou-exclusive faces over the past two weeks but never this one… it worried her. The only thing she could even remotely compare it to was the one she'd seen after she'd woken him from his nightmare.

She sighed, remembering the pain searing his face when she wandered into his room that morning… He had never told her what it was all about, but she had a few guesses. He was easy enough to read most of the time.

Uraraka stood, preparing herself for whatever it was that might be bothering him this time around and whatever angry words might throw her way, but stopped when Kirishima stood and flashed her a wide, sharp-toothed grin.

"I'll go check on Lord Explosion Murder," He assured her, rubbing his palms together in what she could only guess was anticipation.

She only nodded and followed him with her eyes until he disappeared into the stairwell shouting Bakugou's name after him.

It had been awhile since she'd seen them interact. Her and Bakugou spent almost the entirety of everyday together, excluding lunch, so maybe they hadn't had much time to catch up. She couldn't help but frown though. She was worried. She wanted to make sure he was okay…

"He'll be fine, Uraraka. You know how he gets sometimes."

She finally pulled her eyes away from the stairs and back to her green-haired friend. Deku was sitting across from her at the table, cheeks still flushed from the horrible game of truth-or-dare her classmates had thrust them into. Uraraka wondered, briefly, why it had been so hard for her to just come out and tell them _no_. Whether she liked him or not was irrelevant. She'd never _say_ it even if she did. It had just blindsided her, really.

It had been embarrassing in the moment, but as she looked back at him now, earnestly reassuring her that her new, angry friend would be fine, she wasn't embarrassed at all. Her cheeks weren't burning. Her heart wasn't beating out of her chest. There was no giddy euphoria or butterflies fluttering around in her stomach like before, and it was weird, but she was grateful. He was a dear friend, after all. An amazing hero. Someone she aspired to be like. It had been hard to say no when they asked her if she loved him because, despite all the different ways she could deny it, she had definitely felt _something_ before. She _had_ liked him, but it felt different now, somehow. Maybe she had been confusing adoration for romance? Or… something? She couldn't be sure.

"Yeah, I know… He just looked weird, that's all," Uraraka said quietly, resisting the urge to look back at the stairwell once more, "And I'm sorry, by the way. For Mina. _Super_ weird thing to ask." She laughed nervously and pressed her padded fingers together with what she only assumed was a relatively awkward smile.

"Ah, don't worry about it…" Deku gave her an equally awkward smile in return, cheeks still pink under his freckles, "I know it's nothing like that."

"Good!" She responded just a little too loudly, "Uh… good."

Before, the thought of everyone thinking she had a crush on Deku made her so embarrassed she thought she might _actually_ die. Like her heart would stop at any moment and she'd just keel over—all dreams on being a hero dashed in an instant of teenage hormones. But now it just felt… wrong somehow? It made her feel guilty, not embarrassed. Mostly because she didn't want him getting the wrong idea—

 _Wait_. Him? Deku? No…

 _"Whenever you're ready, Uraraka."_

Uraraka thought she might literally catch fire as her brain replayed that scene in her head—over and _over_ again. She'd never seen Bakugou look like… that. There was a softness to his expression and his voice that she almost thought she imagined. Honestly, she wasn't fully convinced that she hadn't just conjured it up with her brain. She was certain that even if she tried to describe it to someone, no one would believe it in a million years. She barely did and she was the only one who actually witnessed it.

Bakugou had taken her hand so slowly, almost like he thought she might rip it away when he touched her. Like he was testing the waters... Like he was making sure that was what he actually wanted to do. And then, briefly, he had run his thumb over the pads of her fingers before pressing them to his sweaty forehead. He'd smiled. _Really_ smiled. Not his crazy, maniacal grin accompanied by sparky palms and flashing eyes. The memory made her stomach twist and tie itself in knots and sent shivers down her arms.

She rubbed her arms in a sad attempt to alleviate the goosebumps that had risen on her skin. _Oh geez,_ Uraraka cursed her thoughts, hoping the heat on her cheeks wasn't visible to her friends across from her, _I don't_ care _if Bakugou gets the wrong idea!_

Unfortunately, this had become a much more common occurrence these past few days… Or, if she was being honest, maybe these past two weeks. Uraraka would think of Bakugou more often than she liked to admit and then she'd spend the next few minutes trying to correct her own thoughts, with unnerving frequency, that she didn't have some sort of feelings for her new friend. _Feelings_ , she had decided to call them, because that could be interpreted in any number of ways and she refused to put the word _crush_ anywhere near Bakugou Katsuki.

 _Who am I trying to convince?!_

Uraraka sighed and stole another glance at the stairwell before standing up and taking her half-eaten breakfast to the kitchen.

 _I don't like Bakugou._ She thought, trying to make the voice in her head sound resolute.

Uraraka scrapped the remainder of her breakfast into the trash can and placed her plate in the sink before turning on the faucet.

 _I don't like Bakugou._

Somehow it sounded even less convincing the second time.

 _I don't… like Bakugou…_

Uraraka sighed and stared at the water pooling onto the dish, unable to find the energy to actually begin washing it. She thought that repeating it over and over again might help but it just kept reminding her that, even _if_ she had… _feelings_ for Bakugou, she didn't know what that was supposed to mean or how she was supposed to deal with them. How did he manage to make her feel so strong all the time, like she could take on the whole world by herself, and yet so, _so_ defeated right at this moment? What on earth would he think if he thought she liked him? She'd finally gotten him to open up a bit, she was certain they could call each other friends even if he might never say it outright, and now here she was, bringing all this to their table… She didn't want to ruin whatever they were because she _might_ like him.

She sighed again.

It was frustrating and confusing and a million other things all at once and Uraraka couldn't do anything except stare blankly into the steaming water flowing from the faucet.

For just a moment she wondered what it might be like… _if_ she liked him. _If_ she told him. _If_ , in this hypothetical scenario, she ever had the courage to say the words aloud… What would he think? What would go through his head as the words left her mouth? What would he actually feel, not outwardly express, and would she like his response…?

Uraraka swallowed hard, unable to think of any answers to her _hypothetical_ monologue that didn't make her chest feel tight or leave her eyes burning. She was suddenly grateful to Kirishima and his concern for his friend—who knows what kind weird stuff she might have started spouting out when she was finally alone with Bakugou again?

* * *

[Bakugou]

Bakugou sighed as he flopped backwards onto his bed and tried his hardest to hide his face with his hands. Maybe if he stayed like this long enough all the uncomfortable shame and embarrassment would just disappear into the blackness and maybe then he'd finally get some peace…

 _Doubtful_.

He was just waiting for Kirishima to come bursting through that door—he'd started stomping after him loud enough in the stairwell to wake up the entire dorm, after all.

He wanted to be annoyed that anyone had started following him, but he had decided not to lock the door. At this point he felt like he might honestly explode if he didn't vocalize some of the shit going through his head… Kirishima was probably the best ear for that kind of thing. Bakugou didn't go to anyone for advice or shit like that but if he ever decided to, he'd probably go find that shitty-haired guy. He was the closest thing he had to a friend.

 _"Nope! We are officially friends now, Bakugou Katsuki!"_

Bakugou groaned.

Fine… maybe he had _two_ friends. Although one of them just decided all that shit for herself and now he couldn't fucking stop thinking about her. Even though she loved that stupid mop. Even though she'd probably hate the whole idea of him liking her… even though he didn't want to _date_ anyone because he never had, and he had absolutely no god damn idea what that would entail.

He couldn't decide if he was infuriated or grossly fucking depressed that this felt like a battle he couldn't win—

 _"You… like winning too, right?"_

Bakugou ripped his hands from his face and slammed them onto the bed. _Fuck! What is taking shitty-hair so long?!_

Just as the thought passed through his head, there were three knocks on the door.

He knew immediately it wasn't Kirishima—he wouldn't knock, and even if he did it would have been accompanied by a whiney shout or something equally as annoying. If it wasn't him then that only left—

Bakugou jumped to his feet. The air caught in his throat, his stomach flipped, all he could hear was his heartbeat pounding in his ears, and suddenly his hands were unbearably clammy.8

"Urara—"

"Bakugou?" Her voice sounded on the other side of the door, "Can I… come in?"

Approximately a million questions ran through his head all at once—what the fuck was he supposed to say? Did he pretend like he _didn't_ just have a jealous outburst in front of everyone? Was this his chance? Should this be the moment he confronts her about Deku, _really_ confronts her? If he did, was he supposed to follow up with some sort of declaration? What if she admitted to it? What if she didn't?

His ears burned when he realized he'd been silent for far too long.

"Whatever…" He managed to croak, hoping he'd made enough sound for her to actually fucking hear him. Did liking someone mean that you turn into a pathetic, bumbling moron? If it was going to be like this forever, he really fucking wished it would all just stop already. It was unbearable.

She pushed the door open in a manner he could really only describe as timid and then shut it quietly behind her. When Uraraka finally turned to face him, her small grin was lifting up her signature round, pink cheeks and Bakugou swore she had suddenly learned how to activate her quirk without touching anything.

"What do you want, Round-Face?" His voice was missing the malice. He sounded giddy in his ears and all the burning questions that had filed through his mind a few seconds ago disintegrated. _Fucking kill me._

"Are you alright?" The smile faltered a little as the worry seeped into her expression.

 _Hell no._

"Yup." He reminded himself to act normal, to narrow his eyes, to look exasperated. She didn't seem to buy it.

"Are you sure? That was awfully loud, and you seemed—"

"Really, _really_ fucking sure. I came up here to relax and get away from all the idiot that was down there so…" He eyed the door and hated himself for it. He obviously didn't want her to leave but he wasn't ready to spout off his list of questions—he wasn't ready to hear the answers that he knew were waiting for him. He wasn't ready for her to stop being around like this, as a friend or whatever the fuck she was, and if she knew how he felt everything would change and be weird and he was afraid she'd stop acting like herself around him. He hadn't realized until this moment how much he genuinely enjoyed her company. The idea of it going away made it feel like his chest might fucking cave in… So, the only alternative was to get her out of here. "Was that all?"

"Uh… no. Not exactly…" Her cheeks grew pinker and she shifted on her feet but stayed planted by the door. She kept opening her mouth like she was going to speak and then closing it again, like she was trying to think of what to say.

Bakugou tried— _desperately_ —to feel annoyed at her hesitation. He just waited, hanging onto her every word, watching the way she twiddled her thumbs as she searched for whatever words she was looking for.

"I think I… might like you…"

Could the earth just _stop_ spinning? Like… was that scientifically probable? Because Bakugou was 99% fucking certain it just had. Everything had become eerily still, he forgot exactly how he was supposed to breath, how long had it been since he blinked? Everything was hot—from his ears to his fingertips to his toes, every inch of him was on fire. He could only stare back in shock… maybe he'd fallen asleep on his bed and this was all a crazy dream, the fantasy he wanted to come true? Is that—is _this_ —what he wanted? He'd told himself a hundred times over the past few days that he had no idea what he wanted to do about liking Uraraka but if this was his dream then he'd obviously been lying to himself. Bakugou contemplated pinching himself but he knew that it wouldn't do any good. He was certain he couldn't move an inch even if he wanted to.

Uraraka finally met his wide eyes, hers bright and unwavering above reddened cheeks. She laughed awkwardly and shifted on back on her heels, "Geez, Bakugou… would it kill you to say _something_?"

Bakugou Katsuki knew he was bad at feelings, but he was self-aware enough to understand that when she used the word _like_ , she didn't mean as _friends_. She meant that she liked him… the way _he_ liked _her_. Bakugou recognized her expression, if only in a vague sense, from the way she had looked at Deku not too long ago. The memory formed a lump in his throat. _Ask_.

"…Deku." He croaked, managing to grab ahold of his voice.

She tilted her head to the side in question and Bakugou forced himself to speak again.

"What about Deku?"

Finally, Uraraka moved away from the door, stepping just a little closer to him, shaking her head, "This has nothing to do with Izuku, you know?" She smiled again, more confident as she took another step towards him, "I just told you that I like you and… well, usually the person who hears that confession is supposed to respond with how _they_ feel."

Uraraka was only an arm's length away. She had just… _confessed_. And now here he was, still as fucking stone, getting a little lightheaded, silent as all hell. He felt like a fucking idiot but honestly, Bakugou just wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Or say. He hadn't thought any of this out yet… he hadn't thought he'd ever have to. Did he just say that he liked her too? Was it that simple? That didn't feel like enough. Uraraka had fucking _saved_ him. She hadn't meant to, and he never would have admitted that he needed saving… but she had come into his life and crashed through walls he didn't even know were there and reached out. And all she ever asked for in return was friendship. He wasn't drowning anymore, and he knew that it was thanks to her so… was: _"I like you too"_ even enough?

She took one last step toward him and broke him from his internal dilemma with an index finger to the chest, "Earth to Bakugou Katsuki," She murmured, poking him again, "I'm really not sure what I'm supposed to make of this silence…"

Bakugou swallowed hard, "I…"

 _Like you too._

He shook his head, finally regaining some sense. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. There were questions that needed to be answered, there were things that needed to be said; he had to tell her about the nightmares. He had to tell her about the guilt and the fear and all that pathetic shit he never wanted to say out loud. He wanted to tell someone—no, that wasn't entirely right. He wanted to tell _her_ because he felt like himself again and it was because of Uraraka Ochako. It was thanks to her.

Bakugou sighed, _one thing at a time._

First things first: the questions.

"What about Deku, Uraraka?" Her eyes widened at the sudden seriousness of his voice.

"I already told you," She said, a small pout puffing out her lips and furrowing her brow, "My confession has nothing to do with Izuku…"

He blinked as an unsettling feeling pooled in his gut. _Izuku_. Bakugou wracked his brain but couldn't think of a single moment when she'd called that mop by his first name. It was always _Deku, Deku, Deku._ The insult that Uraraka had helped turn into some badge of honor. Deku. Not Izuku.

Bakugou narrowed his gaze and stared into the wide, chestnut eyes before him. Before he could open his mouth to say a word, she sighed, and her expression changed to something foreign to that round face but gut-wrenchingly familiar all the same.

She moved faster than he could react. In a flash she reached behind her back and, in the same moment, stabbed something sharp into the side of his neck.

"I was wondering when I'd get to use this blood!" A shrill giggle surged from Uraraka's throat, but the voice didn't belong to her, and she turned to the mirror on his wall to inspect her own face, "Woowww, she's even cuter than I remember, this is great!"

Bakugou felt his blood run cold but it was too late. He couldn't feel his hands, his quirk was out of his reach, and a twist of rage and dread wound itself tight in his chest. His legs gave out under his weight and he crumbled to the floor as Uraraka turned around with a large, toothy grin, twirling the empty syringe in her hands.

"I've been holdin' onto it for forever! I _knew_ it would come in handy somehow. Really wanted to use it on my dear Izuku but _this_ was just too delicious to pass up… little Ochako sure is popular, huh?" She knelt down to the floor and cupped her cheeks in her hands, "Better sleep now and get plenty of rest, Katsuki… I know everyone is _dying_ to see you!"

Her voice was drowned out by the deafening sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. Bakugou kept searching for his voice—a scream, a roar, a cry— _anything_ to stop this before it all came rushing back. That bar. Those fuckers with their _offers_ and accusations. The shame. The guilt. The fear. But his vision was going dark and no matter how hard he struggled, his body wouldn't listen, and his voice wouldn't break free. Then everything was quiet and dark save the last thought that echoed through his head:

 _Fuck._


	9. Traitor

**A/N:** The longest chapter thus far...

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own BNHA or any of its characters. Obviously.

* * *

 _Chapter Nine: Traitor_

[Day Fifteen]

[Uraraka]

Was it possible to die from pure, uninhibited worry? Uraraka really needed to know because everything felt like it was collapsing around her, crumbling to dust. It felt like the world had decided to just take the ground from underneath her feet and leave her floating endlessly in the void with that pit in her stomach… that pit—like the initial panic you get when you miss a stair, right before you go tumbling down, or the racing heart when your body wakes you up from some perilous fate in your dreams. Uraraka couldn't calm herself down, she couldn't quiet her racing thoughts, she couldn't make the pit in her stomach go away. She kept wondering if she had missed something, if maybe she could have done something different or noticed something out of the ordinary… Maybe if she'd gone with Kirishima up to Bakugou's room then things would have turned out differently. Maybe Kirishima wouldn't have been cracked upside the head and Bakugou would still be here.

Uraraka swallowed hard and blinked away the tears that threatened to spill over for the hundredth time that morning.

Bakugou was _gone_.

The teachers and the pros were tight-lipped as could be regarding his disappearance, no doubt because the last time he was taken a handful of students had decided to break the rules and go after him themselves. But their demeanor was different this time—and the implications were enough to make her want to scream until her throat was raw and her voice was gone.

They hadn't said it outright but Uraraka felt it in their questions and had seen it in their faces as they investigated—they were considering the possibility that Bakugou had left on his own. _Willingly_. Just hours after UA had been placed on lockdown and class had been cancelled because—the teachers finally disclosed—there had been a security breach that they attributed to the League of Villains. She had thought that made it obvious, _indisputable_ , that he was taken…

But Uraraka knew they were also considering the situation at the dorm. No one had seen anyone or heard anything suspicious. The security cameras at the front of the building hadn't picked up anyone other than students and teachers. There was no sign of struggle in Bakugou's room, no sign of forced entry either… the only thing out of the ordinary was the fact that Kirishima had disappeared after going to check on Bakugou and then, a few hours later, he was found unconscious in that room with a hard blow to the head, blood streaming down his face, a nasty concussion, and no recollection of how it had all come to pass.

 _"The conditions are definitely strange… we should consider every possibility."_ Midnight had said, not as quietly as she obviously intended.

Uraraka had just watched them work from the hallway, unable to process the fact that Bakugou was gone at all. She stood there for hours. Staring but not really seeing. She watched them wheel Kirishima out on a stretcher with Recovery Girl following quickly behind, some stern, perplexed look on her face. She watched them bring in the police, who dusted for prints and examined doorframes and windowsills. She just stood there, shrugging off anyone's attempt to get her to move, ignoring their questions about her well-being, and watched as eventually everyone dispersed and Aizawa closed and locked the door behind him. Bakugou's door. The door he wasn't behind. The door he wasn't slamming in everyone's faces. The door that he _was_ behind a few hours ago…

Bakugou was gone.

 _"Get some rest, Uraraka. Class is in session tomorrow."_ Aizawa had said with a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. She had shrugged him off too. Because it felt wrong and fake and she didn't like seeing sympathy on his face. She didn't want sympathy—what was there to be sympathetic about? He should be _worried_ , things should be hectic, and classes should be cancelled, but instead it felt like everyone had just decided that he left. No, no, no, not just _left_ … it felt like they had all decided that he'd left with _them_.

Uraraka looked over at her alarm clock and sighed. Class was starting soon. She had to get up. She had to move. She had to believe that he was in danger and that he wouldn't just leave and abandon everything, because it was starting to feel like she was the only one who still thought that…

The rest of the day passed by at an excruciatingly slow pace. Classes blurred together. The teachers seemed determined to pretend like everything was totally fine, that nothing was out of place. But Uraraka was painfully aware of the empty seat in her classroom and her classmates were awkwardly silent. She knew it was to prevent panic, she knew that UA cared about Bakugou, but she also knew that the circumstances were odd, and that people were suspicious.

She shook her head.

It wasn't real.

It _couldn't_ be real… because it wasn't fair. If it was real, then it meant everything that had happened since Bakugou was taken in the forest was for _nothing_. It meant that All Might retired and fought All For One for nothing, it meant that her friend had started healing just to be pulled back into darkness, it meant that this project, the special move, their friendship, the arguments, and the laughs meant _nothing_ because he was _gone_.

Uraraka bit her lip but it didn't stop its quivering or the hot overflow of the tears that spilled down her cheeks and onto her blank notebook. Slowly, she put her head down on her desk and clenched her fists in an effort to stop the shaking. She wasn't sure if anyone noticed. She wasn't sure if she cared if they did. In this moment, she was only sure of two things:

Bakugou was gone.

And it hurt. It really, _really_ hurt. More than anything had ever hurt before.

She felt like she finally understood why her classmates had decided to go after him last time—because it felt _so_ wrong to just sit around and do nothing. It felt like a sin. The guilt was suffocating. What sort of hero would she be if she just sat around while someone so important was gone, when he was in danger, when there might be _something_ she could do? She'd criticized them last time; told them to leave it to the pros because they were still students. She hadn't been sure that there was anything they could actually do that wouldn't be a hinderance. She'd known that Bakugou would hate the idea of being _rescued_. But they proved her wrong.

But the situation was different this time… there was no all-out fight in the middle of the night, there wasn't a wave of villains from all sides, it wasn't life and death. No one had seen any villains at all, just suspicious goings on with the security system that were similar to the first attack from the League. The only thing anyone seemed to know about this situation was that Bakugou had disappeared in conjunction with the breach in security. And that Kirishima had been attacked—either in Bakugou's room by the unknown assailant or…

Uraraka squeezed her eyes shut and resigned herself to keep her cries silent.

Did anyone honestly think that Bakugou would do that to his friend? Sure, from an evidential standpoint it seemed damning, especially with no proof that there was anyone else in that room, but he had no reason to attack a fellow classmate. A friend. He wouldn't. _He didn't_. He was a hero and heroes didn't do things like that.

"Uraraka…" A large hand landed on her shoulder.

She hadn't noticed until now, but the classroom was quiet, save the voice that broke her from her thoughts. Even without looking up Uraraka knew who it was. All Might. _Of course,_ it was All Might. Of course, it was the one hero she knew she couldn't put on a brave face for; the one she wouldn't even try to fool. She doubted she could even if she tried. She didn't look up though, it felt like all the strength had left her body. Why was it so hard to just _stop_ crying? "Bakugou's a _hero_ … All Might. H-he didn't run away. He didn't…" She choked out, "He's in trouble… I-I know it! We _have_ to go after him!"

He was quiet for a moment, only removing his hand from her shoulder to pull one of the desk chairs closer to her, "Do you want to know why I teamed you and young Bakugou up for the assignment?" There was something like a smile in his voice, she felt her body relax ever so slightly.

Uraraka sniffed and nodded, still not bothering to lift her head.

"He's a young man who doesn't know how to ask for help. That's his greatest weakness. Each of us, all the teachers, we've been worried about him since he was abducted by the League. Since my retirement…" Uraraka could hear the hurt in his voice. She could hear the anguish. He may have defeated All For One, but it had come at a cost, and he knew it better than anyone. "He takes everything in stride, all by himself. Especially his guilt. Of course, he feels partially responsible for this… I suppose it would be hard not to. He's always been unpredictable, but he's been different since All For One. However, I believed you were the best chance he had to start the process of overcoming it all."

Her lip quivered again but she finally lifted her head to look into the eyes of the Number One Hero, unsure what to make of his words, "Me?"

All Might smiled, but it was filled with sadness. She hadn't really considered how it must feel for him, or Aizawa, or any of the teachers to have their student go missing once again. They had an enormous responsibility that she knew she'd never really comprehend. "I partnered you two because I knew he couldn't ask for help and I knew you wouldn't bother waiting for him to ask. That's _your_ strength, Uraraka. Your selflessness. Your heart. That's what makes you a hero."

The tears came back before she could find her voice, flooding over her cheeks like a dam had broken. She tried to laugh but it only sounded like a sob. Her heart was so full she thought it might burst—she wanted to smile, she wanted to wrap her teacher in a hug and thank him for pairing them together, for knowing everything, for his praise, but… his words didn't feel deserved. She felt like she'd failed. Even if she had managed to help Bakugou like All Might had intended, none if it mattered if he was gone now. "But… All Might…" She managed between sobs, vision blurry behind her shame, "B-Bakugou's not… He's not _here_. I didn't help him when he… needed it most."

The hero placed his large, albeit deflated, hand on her head and shook his own, "He may not be here right now, no. One of the most difficult things about this line of work is that it's impossible to always be prepared. We can't always expect the unexpected. But we're going to get him back, Uraraka. I promise."

Uraraka could only stare back at him, eyes wide. It felt like she was seeing him for the first time—it didn't matter that he was no longer a towering, muscular figure. It didn't matter that he was retired or that there wasn't a giant, confident smile plastered on his face. All Might was a hero because he was genuine, first and foremost. The strength he exuded with a simple promise made Uraraka believe anything was possible. Bakugou may not be here right now but he _was_ with each of them. He was in her thoughts and her heart—All Might's too. Everyone's. She was terrified and worried and a dozen other emotions all at once, but she knew she could trust the promise. She knew she could trust Bakugou to hang in there until he was back, safe and sound, at UA, with her. Until he was back where he belonged. She'd be there no matter what, whether he wanted help or not.

She wiped her hot tears away with the back of her hand and tried her best to mimic the old, signature smile and nodded, "I'll hold you to that, All Might!"

After the conversation with All Might, Uraraka felt like she could finally think clearly. She couldn't forget the terrible tightness in her chest of course, but she was all cried out for now. And now that she was done with all that, it was time to visit Kirishima. All Might said he'd woken up while class was in session and that he'd already been interviewed so he was good for visitors.

Uraraka knew that it probably wouldn't matter what he said. Not really. She wouldn't be able to go running after Bakugou all by herself and all of class 1-A was being monitored, anyway. But she wanted to know if he remembered anything. She wanted to know what happened. She _needed_ to know.

After double checking with Recovery Girl, Uraraka knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

Kirishima's head was covered in bandages, but he grinned at her as she approached his hospital bed.

"Hey, Uraraka! Ah, don't worry. It doesn't feel as bad as it looks." He gave her a reassuring smile and she shook her head. His spirit really did seem unshakable. She might have laughed if the situation was less dire… he really was something.

"How are you?" Uraraka sat down in the chair at his bedside and glanced at the monitors. He seemed fine but they were keeping him for a few more days, so the concussion had to have been pretty bad…

He shrugged and held up his arm with the IV, "Recovery Girl gave me some stuff for the pain so I'm not too bad."

She did laugh that time, "I'm glad you're finally awake."

Kirishima gave her a knowing smile, like he knew exactly what she wanted to ask, "Sorry, I know why you're here, but I already told the pros and the cops that I don't really know what happened… Everything's kinda jumbled, I'm not remembering stuff right."

Uraraka sighed, hoping the disappointment wasn't completely obvious on her face, "Could you tell me, anyway? Please?"

"Uh, well… Remember how I went upstairs to talk to Bakugou?" He continued when she nodded, "I went up to the fourth floor and then I heard… _you_ , behind me. When I turned around you, uh, kinda knocked me upside the head with a bat." He said it so simply, like it made sense, but Uraraka just stared back at him in shock.

"But… I was—"

"I know," He said with a frown, "You didn't follow me. Besides, the you that _wasn't_ you was already upstairs. So, unless your quirk also lets you teleport, it couldn't have been you. Oh! And I know you wouldn't whack me with a baseball bat, don't worry."

Uraraka furrowed her brow, unsure what to make of his story. The only possible explanation was that whoever attacked Kirishima had a quirk that made this possible. Obviously, the pros and the cops must have thought so too because no one was questioning or arresting her for attacking him. Still, she felt bad…

"Don't worry about Bakugou," He said, twisting in bed to face her, "He'll be okay. He's manly as hell, remember? I wouldn't be surprised if he beat those villains to a pulp already!"

Uraraka almost smiled, slightly inspired by his optimism, but her eyes landed on a small, square bandage pressed to the left side on his neck. She quirked an eyebrow—no one had mentioned anything about any wounds other than his head, "What's that from?" She asked, pointing to his neck.

"Hm? Oh, I'm not sure. I don't remember this one," He reached his hand up towards the bandage thoughtfully, "Recovery Girl said it was small, like a needle, but she bandaged it because it was bleeding, I guess. But they didn't find any weird stuff in my system during their tests so," He shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine."

Like a needle…

Uraraka reached down, placing a hand on her thigh.

 _Like a needle._

"The girl… from the forest…" She breathed, her eyes widening at the memory. She'd almost forgotten that girl. The one who liked blood. She'd stabbed her leg with a needle from her weird machine… She'd taken some of _her_ blood and Kirishima remembered someone wearing _her_ face when he was attacked, "Kirishima!" She shouted, jumping to her feet, "I have a feeling my guess is even better!"

Uraraka didn't wait for him to respond; she was already running towards the faculty office.

The fight with the League in the forest had been so chaotic when Bakugou was taken the first time, it had slipped her mind by the time her and her classmates had returned to UA. She and Asui had told the pros about the girl, about her knives and her weird blood fetish, but she'd completely forgotten she'd even _been_ stuck. She was covered in so many cuts and bruises that it wasn't surprising something like a needle prick had gone unnoticed back then, but…

There was no way it was a coincidence.

It was _her._ Toga Himiko.

She was the one who took Bakugou.

Uraraka's heart clenched once more, tears burned at her eyes as she darted around a corner, as she realized what the implications of this revelation might be. If Kirishima had seen Uraraka on the fourth floor, if the assailant really _was_ Toga, and they were able to alter their appearance with their quirk, then…

She swallowed hard and blinked away the hot tears that were once again threatening to break her mask. If she was right then that meant Bakugou might have let his guard down because he saw _her_ , not some villain in his room. _Not my fault, not my fault_ … She kept repeating it, over and over again, as she ran. She knew it wasn't her fault. She knew that as a logical fact but… that didn't make her feel any better. Maybe… if she hadn't bothered and pestered Bakugou for his friendship these past two weeks, he wouldn't have been fooled. Maybe he wouldn't have let her into his room. Maybe he wouldn't have been taken… Maybe he wouldn't be _gone_.

Uraraka rounded the last corner with a huff and pulled the faculty door open, not even bothering to knock. She didn't know if any of this would help them find Bakugou but… if there was a chance, she couldn't keep it to herself.

She'd do anything to get him back.

* * *

[Day Sixteen]

[Bakugou]

Everything was still dark, and he wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed. The assholes would slither in every so often and stick another one of those fucking needles in his neck. Bakugou could feel the restraints holding him in place, chains clanging together whenever he moved. It was definitely more excessive than it had been the first time…

He growled to himself—this was the _second_ fucking time he'd let himself get caught by some shitty villains. It was bullshit and it was unacceptable. But he couldn't even find the energy to reprimand himself. He was too fucking _angry_.

Every time he'd found consciousness, he waited for the fear to grip onto his throat and drag him under all over again, for the voices to sound off directly in front of him rather than echo against his skull. He waited for the familiar scent of mildew to sneak its way back into his nostrils and bring every memory he pushed back to come back at him in full force. But the fear never rose and there was only silence—no voices. Not in his head and not in reality. The only sounds in the dark room were the chains and his breathing. And even though it was dark, Bakugou knew he wasn't in the bar. If he was, the pros would have come to break the door down by now. He didn't know what the fuck these losers were waiting for, but he didn't intend on sticking around to find out. He'd sooner blow his own fucking arms off to get out of these restraints than wait around for them a moment longer. Bakugou knew it wouldn't be that easy; these restraints prevented him from using his quirk, just like last time. And whatever that shit was they kept poking into his neck didn't just put him to sleep, it sapped his strength. Even now, it felt like he he'd been fighting for hours on end, his muscles were tense and sore, his entire body was being weighed down with fatigue.

Bakugou grit his teeth behind the face mask—the _muzzle_ —and glared into the blackness.

This was _bullshit_. What the hell was the point of all this? They had him caged and weak, at this point he knew they could do whatever they wanted with him. But no one had said a single thing, no one had showed themselves; there were no slimy words or nasty offers. Just chains and needles. Just unbearable, mind-numbing, fucking _silence_.

The feeling that settled in his gut was sickening and unfamiliar. It made him want to scream at the top of lungs. _Helplessness_. Bakugou had faced moments of uncertainty, moments of indecision, but he'd dealt with it. Because he had to, because he knew from the depths of his heart that he was capable of getting over any mountain. But this… felt different. Without his strength, Bakugou wasn't sure how to handle this room or the restraints or the villains, wherever the fuck they were. His quirk was unreachable, his body was so, _so_ fucking tired. It was nearly impossible to turn his head; the weight of the chains were pulling him into the earth, threatening to bury him alive. He wondered, briefly, if this was what it would feel like to be quirkless…

He didn't like it. He fucking hated it. He hated them. He hated _himself_. For being in this situation again. For not being strong enough to fight it. For getting trapped like a mongrel…

His shoulders sagged and his eyes burned. There wasn't a number to quantify just how fucking helpless he felt in that stupid fucking room, in this situation, alone. It was pathetic and it only made him angrier, but he couldn't do anything about it. Bakugou didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to do. He didn't like not knowing and he couldn't stand the exhaustion coursing through his veins—it's like his own body was betraying him.

He knew this was probably their plan—break him down until he felt like there was no other option other than to bow to their whims. To make him helpless and tired and thirsty. To make him feel alone. To make him hate himself more with every second that ticked by. He couldn't give them what they wanted. He knew it. He _couldn't_ sit there wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing, but it took so much energy just to keep himself conscious. He knew he couldn't break down, he refused to give even one of those assholes the satisfaction, but it was so fucking _hard_.

That was when he thought about Uraraka.

 _Uraraka_.

Bakugou wondered what she was doing… what she was thinking. He knew she was probably worried out of her damn mind, freaking out like the air-headed girl she was. Maybe she was telling off the pros again or rallying 1-A to go after him like they'd done before… better _her_ than Deku, anyway. Maybe she was angry… like she was when he'd refused to try out her "special move". He could see it—her face pulled into a tight scowl, trying to be intimidating even though her rosy cheeks made that impossible. Her chestnut eyes sparkling in defiance. Bakugou thought he might like that expression the most.

Or maybe she was crying—would she cry for him? The thought tugged at his heart the slightest bit, but he reprimanded himself immediately. If there was any energy left in his bones, he might have shaken his head. _Idiot._ He didn't want her to cry. He didn't want her to be angry and he didn't want her to worry. Although, it probably wouldn't matter if he could tell her not to. She didn't like doing what he said, it was like she went out of her way to do the opposite, like she found sheer, uninhibited pleasure in defying him.

Bakugou let out something akin a laugh. He felt a little lighter now.

 _I should have thought about her sooner_.

If this were any other situation, Bakugou might have found his ears burning at his inner monologue, embarrassed at just how fucking lame it made him sound… But right now, in this dark room, he couldn't even find the energy for that. Instead, he could only take solace in the comfort her memory brought him and the fire she lit in his stomach—he'd almost forgotten just how he ended up here. He'd almost let himself forget exactly why he was so pissed off in the first place.

Those fuckers wore _her_ face. Whatever the hell their goal was didn't matter in the slightest. It didn't matter that they'd locked him away and chained him and it didn't fucking matter how tired he was or how much shit they injected into his neck. They were going to _pay._ He didn't care how long he'd have to wait. He'd find a way out of these restraints and he'd blow every single one of them into tiny, charred chunks of human trash before he'd give up.

Bakugou grinned behind the muzzle, excitement welling up in his chest. Even though she wasn't around, Uraraka had managed to whip him into shape. _Again_. He'd have to thank her for that later. He was going to be the best—he was gonna get out of here and he was going to be the number one _fucking hero_.

And there was no way in hell that he'd let some pathetic chains and villains stand in his way.

Bakugou couldn't see the restraints that were binding his hands together but he could feel the fabric between his fingers— _gloves_ , probably to absorb moisture—and the casing around that was definitely metal, cold against his arms, heavy enough to put a strain on his shoulders. There was some sort of chain connected to that, binding him to the floor. They clanged near his feet with the slightest movement. On top of that, his elbows and upper arms were secured to his torso, bound by a strap that connected him to something behind him. It couldn't be a wall, the villains always entered from behind… He could only assume it was a pillar-like structure rising the ground below him; he could feel the sharp corners pressed between his shoulder blades. The muzzle was attached to it too, keeping his head upright, but it was looser than whatever was wrapped around his body. His legs were the only thing even remotely free, although that was probably a generous description considering his ankles were bound together.

 _Annoying._

He growled to himself—no matter how shitty these fucking villains were, they'd definitely learned from their past mistakes. They weren't giving him a single fucking way to _move_ , let alone escape. And those gloves were really going to be a problem… He wasn't sure exactly how long he'd been restrained but his hands were bone dry despite the sweat he felt dripping from his brow. He hadn't had a single drop of water since he'd been captured either. It seemed like they really did their homework this time around.

 _It doesn't matter_.

Bakugou couldn't let dehydration get the better of him. Under certain conditions, he could control the flow of his sweat to an extent. If he could gather enough in his palms, maybe the gloves wouldn't be able to absorb the moisture fast enough. The problem wasn't necessarily the restraints on his hands, it was the _timing_. Even if he managed to obliterate those, it would be loud, _really_ loud, and those assholes would be on him in an instant before he could deal with the rest of his bindings. The drug was an issue too—it was hard enough to find the energy to wiggle his fingers inside their metal casing, fucking _forget_ fighting. Bakugou wasn't sure if his legs would even be able to hold his weight without the help of the straps, so fighting was low on the list of possibilities.

He furrowed his brow, unsure how he was supposed to deal with the fatigue. He wanted to believe sheer fucking spite and willpower would keep him on his feet, but he wasn't an idiot—whatever they kept sticking into his neck was meant to keep his body weak. He couldn't just wish away the effects as much as he might want to. _That_ was the first obstacle he'd have to overcome…

He needed a way to get their guard down, to let up just enough to give him an opening. A way to earn their _trust_ , as fucking disgusting as that thought might be, even if it was only a little.

 _Wait._

For the first time since All Might fought All For One, Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut and sifted through his memories. It made his stomach churn after he'd spent so much time trying to bury them, but he kept digging. If he couldn't just force his body to do what he wanted then he'd have to think of something else, _anything_ else to get the fuck out of here, no matter how much he hated the thought.

 _"Bakugou Katsuki, the wannabe hero… I know this is taking things a little fast, but… What say you become one of us? Ours is a battle of questions. What is a hero? What is justice? Is this society truly just? We'll make everybody question those things, one by one! And we plan to win. You… like winning too, right?"_

Bakugou remembered the fear again, he remembered the fight that almost destroyed his hero. He remembered the implications behind their words and their invitation... he remembered wondering if the world would see him the way _they_ did… But even though his stomach twisted into tight, sickening knots, the fear stayed in the memory where it belonged—their words didn't have the malice they once had. He wasn't afraid.

The hands-guy, _Shigaraki_ , had loosened his restraints to earn _his_ trust before. Because he'd wanted Bakugou to join the League… so, at least for now, playing along was probably the only option.

 _They want a villain._ He thought, smothering the memories with all the rage he could muster, pulling the pieces of a plan together in his head, _I'll give them a fucking villain._

[Day Seventeen]

Bakugou thought his heart might beat out of his chest as the door behind him clanked and creaked open, letting light into his cell for the first time since he'd arrived at… _wherever_ the fuck he was. Only one pair of shoes echoed off the concrete as they made their way into the cell. He braced himself for the prick of the needle as they drew closer, but it never came. Instead they placed their hand on the back of his neck, dragging their fingers along his skin— _small,_ they probably belonged to that girl. The one who had the audacity to wear _Uraraka's_ face. It took more energy than he cared to admit to keep himself calm as she spoke.

"Sorry, Katsuki," Her voice drawled near his ear, "I woulda _loved_ to see you with Ochako's cute little face again but…" She finally rounded on him, bringing her face into his periphery, shrugging like she was disappointed, "I ran outta blood."

He resisted the urge to narrow his eyes or meet her gaze—none of this was going to work if they thought he was as defiant as the last time. He picked a single point, a scuff on the concrete floor, and stared, trying his best to hide his building excitement. Why was the idea of facing something seemingly insurmountable such a fucking _rush_?

Bakugou knew he wasn't much of an actor, although he had never really tried, but right now he needed to be, so he would. It was his only option. There was no way he could just stay there, bound in chains until the pros showed up; he'd just be a liability if any sort of rescue arrived and that drug was still in his system—so he'd settled on pretending. He needed to look dejected. He needed to look like he was breaking, like there wasn't an ounce of fight left in his soul. No matter how much he hated it.

That was his only chance of keeping those needles out of his neck. _One thing at a time._

The girl sighed at him and let out a small whine, "She's _so_ cute, you think so too, right?" He could barely see her lips curl into a large, toothy smile, but her sharp canines still made his way into his vision. What the fuck was she, anyway? "Oh, you don't have to say anything, though. I already know the answer to that. We were watching. It's what led us to where we are now!"

He didn't speak and she continued after a few heartbeats.

"You know…" She finally made her way directly into his line of sight—the smile was gone, and she was twirling a knife in her hands, "It's really no fun for me if you don't struggle." Her voice was flat, devoid of anything close to human emotion; the tone mimicked the look in her eyes, "I could bring your little girlfriend here instead if you'd like. _Her_ blood would was some of the tastiest I've had in a while… Maybe I could bring her in here," She motioned to the open space in front of him and then ran her fingers gently along the blade, "It would be great to wear her again, don't you think? I just hope I don't get _carried away._ "

Bakugou was suddenly grateful for his muzzle—he wasn't sure what she'd think if he saw the way his jaw clenched as she dug deeper.

"Do you think she'd _scream_ , Katsuki? Do you think she'd beg for her life? Or maybe she'd look at _you_ , asking for help. For _justice_ … and you could just sit and watch."

 _Fuck_. _This. Chick._

"Or," Her eyes finally lit back up, like a switch had been flipped in her backwards brain, "Maybe she wouldn't even _look_ at you, after what ya did."

Bakugou urged himself to stay stoic, to look through her, but he couldn't help but meet her eyes at that last bit. He almost shuddered at that wide, ecstasy-filled grin adorning her face—there was more to this than he'd originally guessed. He couldn't tell if he'd underestimated them or if this was some sort of bluff. But as he glowered her smile grew larger.

The shrill giggle that left her lips set his teeth on edge, but she was looking past him now, over his shoulder, eyes sparkling with excitement, "Do you want to tell him, or should I?"

"You've done enough talking, Toga."

 _Toga._ That was her name. But he could hardly care in that moment. Because Bakugou knew that voice. It was the one that had plagued his dreams, turned them into nightmares, left him choking for breath each morning for weeks on end. _That_ name he knew.

 _Shigaraki Tomura._

She pouted but seemed to oblige, stepping to the side to begin circling Bakugou at the owner of the voice stepped into view, still twirling her knife all the while.

"Here we are again, Bakugou Katsuki," Shigaraki's voice was only the slightest bit muffled behind the nasty fucking hand wrapped around his face. His mouth was hidden but Bakugou swore he heard a smile in his voice, "I'd apologize for the chains but you and I both know you can't be trusted to keep calm." He seemed different from before—confident. Grueling. _Excited_. "Do you remember what I called you? Last time?"

Bakugou's voice was a growl but he could see it on the fucker's face. He wouldn't continue until he responded. " _Wannabe hero_."

He seemed pleased behind the boney joints, "Back then it was just an observation, you know. But things are different this time around," He leaned forward, just enough that Bakugou had to look into his eyes, "It took weeks getting into that school's security system, but it made for some… _interesting_ reading. Looks like you're already one of us, whether you want to be or not. We just had to help push the narrative."

Toga laughed again from somewhere behind him, and Bakugou thought he might burst. He didn't want to listen to a single fucking word that came out of their mouths— _his_ mouth. His fingers twitched inside their prison; the gloves were finally getting damp. _Just a little more_.

"What do you say? Want to hear what they wrote about you? Want to hear what they _really_ think of you? _Hero_?"

"Maybe he wants to hear about how he bashed his friend's brain in?" She piped up again, stomping her feet in time with her laughter.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes but held his tongue, keeping his gaze firmly on the figure in front of him. He knew every word oozing from their mouths were lies. Every bit of his energy had to go to his palms, to redirecting his sweat into those gloves, not to their slimy words or shitty taunts. They wouldn't talk so fucking big when he blew them sky high.

"C'mon, _hero_ ," Shigaraki lunged forward, gripping onto the muzzle and tilting Bakugou's chin up as far as the restraints would allow, "Let me hear you."

 _No._ He couldn't. He fucking _couldn't_. Would he really have to throw out every last bit of his pride just to get out of this shithole? Bakugou knew his limitations, he knew what he was and wasn't capable of. He had been willing to pretend, to feign weakness, to act like he'd given up if it meant he could get out of here. If it meant he could get back. Back to UA, back to being a hero, back to _Uraraka_. But did that mean he had to throw every last bit of himself out the window? Could he really live with himself if they wanted him to resort to begging for their fucking lies? Bakugou's mind pulled him towards his chance for salvation— _suck it up, say the words, kill 'em later_ —but his heart wanted to refuse. Could he still claim to be the strongest or the best if he bowed to their whims, even for his own sake? He didn't know the right answer, but he could see the syringe in Shigaraki's free hand, and he could feel his sweat running down his fingertips. If they stuck him now, hours of effort would be wasted and he'd have to build up his ammunition all over again later, more dehydrated, more exhausted…

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

Whether it was five minutes from now or five years from now, Bakugou vowed to blow that hands-fucker apart if it was the last thing if he ever did.

"What the fuck do they say?!" He roared behind the muzzle, twisting his chin out of the villain's grip to meet his eyes once more, hating himself as the wide, dry grin spread across his face, peeking out from behind that hand.

"You follow orders about as well as the rest of them," Shigaraki drawled in his hoarse tone, shifting his gaze to Toga for just a moment.

After a long, silent moment, Bakugou thought he wasn't going to continue. Rage burned his stomach, making its way to his throat, leaving it raw; it took everything he had to stop himself from shaking in his restraints. But Shigaraki decided to give him what he asked for, _of course he did_ , he was fucking dying to say it. Bakugou could see it in his smug-ass face.

"They've been looking for the traitor," He started, sliding the syringe into his coat pocket, "The one who leaked USJ. The Forest's location. _Your_ location. There's a list in their mountain of investigation… potential villains, _like us_. And _you_ , wannabe hero, made the cut. Can you believe it?"

"You get it, right?" Toga chided in his ear, wrapping her arm around his shoulder to rest her blade against his throat, pressing harder as she spoke, "It doesn't matter that it _wasn't_ you! It doesn't! They don't care, they've already decided what you are!"

"In their eyes, you're already a villain, Bakugou Katsuki."


	10. Endgame

**Disclaimer:** I don't own BNHA or any of its characters. Obviously.

* * *

 _Chapter Ten: Endgame_

[Day Seventeen]

[Bakugou]

In the end, the villains had done a lot of monologuing before turning tail out of Bakugou's cell. They hadn't asked him anymore questions or offered him a place among their ranks like the last time. Bakugou thought, maybe, they didn't think they _needed_ to offer. After all, with the way they were talking, they already thought of him as one of them. One and the same. A leech. A fucking snake. A villain. They were at least confident enough in themselves and the situation to keep their needle to themselves. And, according to them, UA thought the exact same thing about him—

They were _lies_ , he knew it, but it still tugged at the corner of his mind. For some reason, Eraser Head kept popping into his consciousness—the way he ate up Bakugou's lies about the sparring with Uraraka, how easily he accepted terrible shit, his dead eyes staring through him doubtlessly, without a hint of surprise, how quickly he administered punishment, how rapidly he might have been kicked out of UA even though he'd pretended like it wasn't a big deal…

There was a pit forming in his stomach, heavier than lead, sickeningly terrifying, threatening to throw off his resolve.

He didn't care what everyone else thought of him. Or… he didn't _want_ to care what everyone else thought. What did the pros and his teachers think when they looked at him? His classmates? If the villains weren't lying through their teeth, then… what would the _world_ think of him? He wanted to be number one. He wanted to stand on that stage, on that podium, just like All Might did… _had_. He wanted to inspire kids, just like All Might had inspired him. He wanted people to see him and stare in awe, to use him as the bar they strived for, to look at the figure he'd strike when he'd win and think: _that's the number one hero_.

 _"Bakugou, I'm sorry. I kept thinking you'd be disappointed if I went to see Recovery girl for my bruises… But that was so_ stupid _! I wanted to… be like you, I guess?"_

Holy fucking _shit_. What the hell? Did having a crush on some weird, round-faced girl really mean he was going to fucking think about her every single time his own thoughts threatened to pull him under the crashing waves in his mind? There was a part of him, the part from before, that wanted to be irritated that she kept popping up whenever his determination wavered. But right now he knew he didn't have all his strength, so he decided to be grateful—it made him feel stronger. _She_ made him stronger. Right now, it didn't matter why. He'd take it. She was the reminder that even if every single person in the world looked at him and they weren't sure whether or not to label him as a hero or a villain, there was at least one person who could always see the truth. There would always be one infuriating, gravity-defying hero that could smack some sense into him, even from far away.

No. No, that wasn't quite right—there were more. Kirishima. Kaminari. Even that shitty fucking mop. And everyone else was the reminder that no matter what the hell they thought, he'd prove them _wrong_ if he had to.

He'd deal with the turmoil later—with the supposed investigation, whatever they were claiming they had framed him for, and bullshit labeling. He couldn't do shit about it from the confines of a cell. There were more important things to deal with first. Like getting the fuck outta here.

Bakugou wasn't sure if the villains were so focused on telling their story that they forgot to inject him with the drug this time around or if it was a conscious choice, a _reward_ for his groveling, some kind of trap, or a gesture of good will… but he'd use it to his advantage. These fuckers had the foresight to deny him water and cover his hands in moisture wicking shit in an effort to stop his quirk, but they'd still underestimated him. _Idiots._ Bakugou grinned as the excitement rose again and ate away at the pit in his stomach. He'd been hoping they would be dumb enough to get rid of some of his restraints, but that hands-guy was right on at least one account— _he couldn't be trusted._

The gloves were practically dripping with sweat inside the casing. This was no time to hold back. He wasn't sure just how strong the metal was, and he had to break it in one go. The migraine was already setting in from the dehydration and exertion. It had been awhile since he'd had to work _this_ hard with his quirk. If he fucked up, there wouldn't be time for a second try. If the explosion was large enough, he would at least damage the rest of the restraints even if he didn't break the chains. His body was strong enough to withstand a lot of the damage but that didn't mean his own quirk didn't take a toll on him under the right conditions. He hadn't used this much force since he'd started wearing the gauntlets with his costume to limit the effects on his body... Worst case scenario: he fucked up the muscles in his arms and burned the absolute shit out of himself.

 _Whatever_. It wasn't like he had much of a choice anyway.

He flexed his fingers at much as he was able inside their prison and turned his head as far to the side as his muzzle would allow, squeezing his eyes shut. Whatever the outcome, it was better than falling into their bullshit again. He'd given them enough of his pride.

 _Now or never._

Bakugou exhaled and ignited his fuel in the same instant—the sound grew from a low rumble, echoing in the metal, to a deafening whistle as it splintered the casing and lit the room with fire and smoke. Thunderous vibrations shifted the floor, skewing the concrete under his feet. Even behind closed eyes, the light was blinding and the heat scorching, Bakugou could feel it searing his skin, tearing at his tendons, but the adrenaline was coursing through his veins, masking any semblance of pain in the aftermath.

Even as the explosion died and the smoke evaporated, light spilled into the small space, revealing the crater he'd created. The door had been blown backward off its hinges and even though there was no sign of the villains yet, he knew they wouldn't be far off.

Luckily the only restraint still in place was the charred muzzle covering his face. The pillar was crumbled, the chain links scattered and glowing a deep orange. Bakugou grinned as he looked around but didn't spend too long admiring his destruction. His legs were already moving, though not as quickly as he had hoped, and he was pushing himself out of the remains of the doorway. The room was empty save some old furniture, blown askew from his shockwave. He looked around and his eyes landed on the only other door. _Of course_ there was only one exit. If it was the only way out, it was the only way _in_. Blowing a hole in the wall would likely prove fruitless, there were no windows. _Underground_. Bakugou grit his teeth and ran toward the door, shoving it open and throwing a preemptive explosion into the waiting stairwell that met only air.

" _Tch_."

 _Of course. Fucking stairs_. As if his legs weren't already screaming and shaking with exhaustion.

Bakugou groaned and took three steps at a time, skidding on the landing and propelling himself up the next flight with a quick burst from his palms. His head was pounding. Bakugou was certain that the only reason he could still produce a single drop of sweat was from sheer fucking determination. It felt like his arms were still burning, he could feel his rapid pulse radiating from his palms to his elbows. His body was going to pay for all this abuse later.

After six flights without an exit and alternating between explosions and the failing strength of his own legs to continue moving upward, he finally reached the door and didn't give himself a moment to hesitate or catch his breath.

He blew it off its hinges and shoved his hands out in front of him, wincing at the movement, preparing for an assault as a figure appeared behind the debris. Bakugou tensed his fingers as he sparked the sweat on his palms. _This was it_. He dug his heels into the floor and let his rage color his vision red—

But in an instant, just before detonation, the light in his palms flickered to nothing and his quirk was unreachable. There was a familiar face beyond the dust, beyond his cloud of anger and confusion, eyes wide and bloodshot behind yellow goggles.

Bakugou stumbled, flooded with an embarrassing mixture of relief and exhaustion. It was like his entire body was collapsing in on itself—his legs turned to jelly, his arms fell to his sides, his vision twisted and blurred to white as his eyes rolled back into his head and his lids fluttered closed. He felt himself falling but he didn't care.

His consciousness left him just as he fell into the arms of his teacher.

* * *

[Day Eighteen]

[Uraraka]

Uraraka held Bakugou's hand in her own as gently as she could manage. She could see the burns and scratches peeking from behind the bandages, proof of his effort, strength, and stupidity all in one. Even with Recovery Girl's kiss, Bakugou was practically comatose in the infirmary and his body was still healing, so even though all she wanted to do was squeeze the life out of his hand, she restrained herself. Aizawa had been kind enough to come to the dorm, wake her up, and allow her into Bakugou's room in the middle of the night after the pros raided the abandoned warehouse the villains had been keeping Bakugou in… So, it would probably be rude to impede on her project partner's regeneration…

Still…

Uraraka smiled and pushed Bakugou's singed hair from his forehead with her free hand, "Welcome home, dummy…" She murmured, gently thumbing the edge of the bandage over his eyebrow. He looked tired. She hadn't seen him so beat up in a long while and she'd certainly never seen him so ragged because of his own quirk. She hadn't even known it was possible. With the way Bakugou abused his quirk all the time, she thought he was practically invincible to it. _This_ was the real damage he could cause to himself if he went all out. She could only imagine the destruction he'd caused with the explosion that had left his arms like this. It screamed desperation.

According to Aizawa, the villains had fled their hiding spot before the pros even arrived. There hadn't been any fighting. He'd said they heard Bakugou's explosion—the one that did _this_ —before they'd even arrived on the scene. But since the villains were already gone, Bakugou had torn the muscles and ligaments in his arms simply to escape his cell in the basement. Although the League's sudden disappearance before the pros got there was concerning, Uraraka was glad they weren't there. She didn't know how it would have been possible for Bakugou to fight in his condition.

 _"The blast should have knocked him out,"_ Recovery girl had said with a worried look on her face as she gathered her things to leave, _"With the sedative in his bloodstream and the pain, I can't believe he managed to stand, let alone use his quirk."_

 _Desperation_ , Uraraka thought again, frowning. If she hadn't spent the last 45 minutes sobbing into her new friend's bedsheets, she might've started crying again. But her eyes were tired and red, probably swollen, and it wasn't fair to him to keep on worrying now. She hadn't gone through whatever he had. For now, she'd focus on how relieved she was that he was back in one piece, still alive and kicking.

She resisted the urge to squeeze his hand again. Uraraka wasn't sure just how helpful her realization about the girl in the forest had been; Aizawa told her that it had helped them narrow their search and that it had assisted the police with their questioning of possible witnesses outside of UA but she couldn't tell if he was just trying to make her feel better or not. Afterall, they already had her photo and knew about her association with the League. But they had been able to discern her quirk to a certain degree, so even if the information hadn't helped them find Bakugou, she knew it would be helpful in the future.

Uraraka sighed and ran her fingers through his hair, feeling guilty when she found herself thinking that she was glad he was asleep. If he was awake there was no way he'd let her baby him like this. But it was nice… the closeness. It made her heart swell. She wondered what he'd think if he knew that she was holding his hand and petting his hair. Would he yell and pull away? Or scowl and accept it? Or… would he look at her the same way he had in the gym almost a week ago?

 _"Whenever you're ready, Uraraka."_

Another sigh.

Uraraka didn't bother trying to deny the tightness in her chest. She could lie to herself as much as she wanted but that didn't change the fact that she'd spent the last few days frantic with worry. It wouldn't change how much he'd dominated her every waking thought or that he'd been present in each of her dreams. It wouldn't change how she'd kept thinking about all the things she hadn't said and the regret she felt for having kept quiet. Lying to herself wouldn't change what she knew to be true, especially now that he was back within her reach. Now that he was in her grasp. Now that she could feel the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach as she gazed at his gentle, sleeping expression.

It felt absolutely crazy. Liking Bakugou… like _that_ …

He was almost insane. He was mean more often than he was anything else. He liked to yell and throw tantrums and say terrible things. But things had started shifting, she'd seen it in his face and in his actions. Bakugou was still Bakugou but he was a different version of himself—she couldn't explain it. She didn't know if anyone else could see it. Maybe she was imagining things. All she knew was that it felt so _right_ being beside him right now. No, not just now. Always. It felt right fighting next to him, standing beside him. He made her feel like she could take on the world with or without him, he gave her something to strive for, he had never treated her like something that might break if he pushed too hard. He challenged her to think differently and to see herself differently. She understood him well enough to figure out that he often didn't say what he meant. Maybe that wasn't quite right… he meant the things he said _when_ he said them, but it was like a cover or a mask. She even liked his brashness to a certain degree—maybe that made her just as crazy as he was.

Uraraka's cheeks warmed and she removed her hand from her friend's face. Even though it made her happy, it wouldn't be fair to him. She almost laughed, imagining how he might bristle under her outwardly affectionate gesture. She didn't know if he'd pull away or endure it.

 _It doesn't matter_ … She thought with a meek smile. All that was important right now was that he was _back_.

Still though, Uraraka couldn't bring herself to let go of his hand.

The sun was starting to peek over the horizon as daybreak began and Uraraka yawned, the fatigue of her worry-filled days and sleepless nights finally catching up to her. She pushed her chair back just enough to lean forward and rest her free arm on his hospital bed into a make-shift pillow.

She smiled into her sleeve. _Welcome home, Bakugou…_

* * *

[Bakugou]

Everything ached. It felt like his limbs were made of lead. His skin felt like it was stretched too tightly over his muscles—oh fuck, his muscles. His _forearms_. Bakugou could tell the pain was dulled from medicine, he could smell the familiar scent of hospital disinfectant, but even without opening his eyes he knew he was swollen. The agony throbbed in time with his pulse. Radiating. _Damn it_. He really had overdone it.

He shifted, feeling the weight on his right hand, and struggled to open his eyes. Even through hazy eyes he could make out the figure slumped on his bed and he was acutely aware of her fingers messily intertwined with his own.

"Uraraka," He breathed, blinking away sleep from his eyes, still slightly dazed.

She didn't stir and his shoulders shook in silent laughter. Her hair was wild, bangs sticking out every which way; there was a small bit of drool trailing from the corner of her mouth. She looked like a fucking mess, but she was smiling in her sleep. _Weird._ It made him want to smile too.

"You're snoring, Round-face…" He said, a little more loudly. It was selfish, but he wanted her to wake up. He wanted to talk to her. Hear her voice. Bakugou had no fucking idea what the hell he'd say and no idea what he wanted _her_ to say. But he wanted it anyway.

His face burned at his inner monologue—thank god no one could hear his thoughts. He knew he sounded like an idiot and he didn't need anyone knowing how fucking lame he'd become.

His eyes were stuck to her hand. He was almost angry that he couldn't really feel it under the bandages, but he was more pissed that it was his own fault. He'd been dead to the world since he collapsed in that abandoned building so there hadn't been a chance to hear anyone's scolding or figure out the true extent of the damage he'd caused himself.

Bakugou's mind was reeling with questions about the incident and the League, about all the accusations the villains had thrown his way, but he pushed them away for now.

Right now, he just wanted to stay exactly as he was, looking at Uraraka's goofy, smiling, sleeping face. Feeling her hand gripping his just a little too tightly. He was calm for the first time in forever. There was nothing weighing down his mind, the guilt that had been resting on his shoulders was lighter, the lingering fear was gone, replaced with defiance. _Determination_. Even though his body was battered and broken, even though he was lying in a hospital bed wrapped in bandages with tubes attached to his arms and monitors beeping behind him, he felt stronger than he ever had.

Bakugou wasn't sure if he would ever be able to say it aloud but he knew he owed a lot of it to the floaty-girl passed out on his bed. There was a part of him that wanted to say it, to thank her, but he knew himself and he knew that at least for now, his pride wouldn't let him. The idea that he had needed help, that he owed anything to anyone else… the fact that he hadn't been able to pull himself up and handle everything on his own made him uncomfortable. He didn't want to rely on others. So, because he thought the words were unreachable, he resigned himself to squeezing her hand. It hurt but he liked it.

He sighed and tore his eyes from her face to look out the window. The sun was getting higher. It wouldn't be long until someone came into his room to interrupt his thoughts. He was curious about everything, but he wanted them to stay away. If anyone came in, they'd probably wake Uraraka. Make her leave. He wanted her to stay.

A small grumble emanated from her as she stirred in her slumber, pulling his eyes back to her face.

"Bakugou…" She mumbled, tugging at his arm, pulling his hand to her face. She practically nuzzled against it and he felt his heart jump to his throat.

He stared, intensely aware of the blush as it bloomed on his cheeks. Was she still asleep? He could feel the softness of her skin as it brushed against his exposed fingertips, the heat of her breath through the bandages. Her smile widened as she held tighter, he winced but his blood was hot under his skin and he wasn't sure he could pull away from her vice grip even if he wanted to. What the _fuck_ , Uraraka?

Nope. No, no, no. He couldn't do this—the monitors started beeping louder behind him, highlighting his embarrassment.

"U-Uraraka," He said, his voice came out loud and wavering like the fool he was, "That fucking hurts."

Her amber eyes fluttered open, glazed from sleep. She was looking at him, but he could tell the situation wasn't really registering in her tired gaze. His breath caught in his throat—had she always been that fucking pretty?

Somehow his face grew even hotter— _no, shut up!_ He scolded himself.

After a few blinks, and maybe from his bewildered expression, Uraraka's eyes cleared and recognition settled onto her face. She practically jumped to her feet, dropping his hand and covering her mouth with her own, "Bakugou!" She kept looking from his hand to his face, panicked, blush building on her already pink cheeks as the silence wore on.

"Y-you look like shit… Round-face." He choked out, cursing himself as soon as the words left his lips. _Real fucking smooth, idiot._

"B-Bakugou!" She was looking at him with eyes he didn't recognize, and he steeled himself to apologize as tears pooled in her eyes. But she was on him before he could even open his mouth, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a tight hug, burying her face in the crook of his neck as she deflated into a mess of sobs.

He couldn't move. His lungs forgot how to breathe. Or maybe it was his brain? Whatever. His whole body was frozen in shock, acutely aware of her wet cheeks against to his bare skin, of her padded fingertips pressed into his back. This was _not_ good; he'd pass out if he didn't get his shit together. It was only after he remembered how to breathe that he became aware of the pain of her embrace.

"You're going to kill me," He hissed, unsure if he meant from the pang reverberating from his arms or from his frantic heartbeat.

Uraraka backed away as quickly as she'd attacked, laughing awkwardly as she rubbed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

He narrowed his eyes, hoping to distract her from the beeping behind his head, "You make a habit of squeezing the shit out of everyone in the hospital?"

She rolled her eyes, but she smiled. Bakugou could see it on her face—she was relieved, her joy was overwhelmingly obvious. Infectious, even. It tugged at something in his chest, the faint glimmer of hope that maybe he wasn't alone in his feelings… Bakugou swallowed hard and stopped himself from matching her grin with one of his own, tearing his eyes from her face. If she kept looking at him like that, he couldn't be held accountable for what he might say.

"Welcome back," She said, practically whispering despite the empty room; even if he hadn't seen that ridiculous smile on her face a moment before, he could hear it in her voice, "And uh… sorry. About the hug. I didn't mean to hurt you; I just couldn't help myself. I'm happy you're okay," She chuckled, seemingly to herself, and Bakugou bit his tongue. She was _really_ fucking testing his self-restraint now. Uraraka shifted on her feet, obviously put off by his silence, "Oh! Aizawa-sensei told me to call the faculty office when you woke up, so…" She turned on her heels and headed towards the phone on the wall.

 _No. Not yet._ Bakugou followed her with his eyes, practically pleading. He wanted to yell for her to stop—but there was a lump in his throat. He wanted to say it. He wanted to tell her. He thought he was going to burst if he didn't let It all out. He wanted to ask her about Deku, he needed to tell her about the nightmares, he wanted to be alone with her for a little while longer. But Uraraka was already reaching for the phone. _Coward_. He repeated it over and over again in his head. What had happened to the version of him that never shied away from a challenge? Where was the him that could face down anything and everything? The one that had just fucking crawled out of a prison cell and practically blew his own arms off? _Fucking coward_.

But she hesitated, her hand hovering just over the receiver. That was all he needed. He wouldn't be a coward. He _wasn't_ a coward. He had to stop acting like one. He was tired of dancing around like a bumbling idiot.

Bakugou pushed himself from his sheets and swung his legs over the side of the bed, dragging his IV along with him, pulling the heart monitor from his finger, ignoring the twinge and the frantic look on her face as he stumbled his way to his feet on shaky legs.

"Wh-what the heck are you doing, Bakugou?! Get back in—"

"Uraraka." He steeled himself. It honestly felt like he might vomit at any moment. His throat was drier than a fucking desert. His heart was pounding against his ribcage so loudly it was hard to hear his own thoughts. He hadn't thought any of this out—holy _fuck_ , what the hell was he thinking? "I like you." It didn't feel right. The words didn't feel like enough. But the only other word that might make up the difference alluded him in that moment. No, that wasn't right… he knew exactly what it was. But _this_ L-word was difficult enough to say.

Her eyes widened, something flashed across her expression. Surprise? Embarrassment? Hope? He couldn't tell. But… she didn't look _upset_. That was probably a good sign. Maybe? Or was that bad? His face was on fire. This was fucking _agony_.

As her silence stretched on Bakugou tried to think of his escape route—were there words he could use to backtrack his confession? Would she buy it if he did? Did he even want to?

Finally, she smiled, but it was strained. Sad. His stomach hurt.

"I like you too, Bakugou," She said quietly, clasping her hands behind her back, tilting her head slightly, "I'm glad All Might paired us up for this project."

He knew immediately that she wasn't picking up what he was putting down. He bristled, frustrated at her dense response but even more so that he hadn't made it clear enough the first time around. She was going to make him say it _again_. Because she thought he meant as _friends_ —which was true, he _did_ like her as a friend, but that wasn't the confession he was aiming for right now. Maybe he should have started with that one instead... Bakugou knew he could use this as a scapegoat, he could sit back down in bed and pretend like that was that. And, despite his resolve, he might have done just that if she hadn't looked so fucking _sad_.

Bakugou shook his head and averted his gaze to the floor. He felt so fucking lame. What kind of hero couldn't confess his fucking feelings properly?!

"No," He growled, mostly to himself, "I mean I… I really fucking _like_ you."

Maybe the inflection would help?

Uraraka was quiet again. He couldn't lift his eyes to look at her, so he did what he knew he was good at. He _shouted_.

"I like you but not like… a _friend_ , alright!" He groaned and glared daggers into the floor, "I mean I fucking like you _more_ than that! More than a friend—ahh, what the _fuck_ am I even _doing_?!"

This was it. This was how his whole life would end—he was going to have a fucking heart attack and die right here, in the most uncool fucking way possible, blushing like an idiot. He'd just survived a second abduction from the League of fucking Villains to die telling someone he _liked_ them. Bakugou contemplated blowing up the whole infirmary. Maybe the whole school. Maybe himself. If it would get his heart to calm the fuck down and his skin to stop burning, he'd do just about anything.

"B-Bakugou… I—"

He heard something in her voice… something he couldn't place, but the door clicked open, cutting her off, turning her attention elsewhere. He didn't look up to see who it was. All he could do was stare at her profile, wishing she'd turn back around.

Eraser Head's sigh echoed through the room silent room when neither of them spoke, "I thought I instructed you to call when he woke up," His voice was sharp, obviously irritated, "Uraraka, I suggest getting back to the dorms. Class will start soon."

Bakugou watched her hesitate as she looked back and forth between him and her teacher, although he couldn't help but notice that she didn't meet his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat as she nodded and turned towards the door, practically running from the room and into the hallway.

Aizawa closed the door and sighed again, finally turning his attention to Bakugou.

"You're supposed to be resting."

He barely heard him. Slowly, he crawled back into the bed and turned to face the window, ignoring the aches that radiated from his arms. He'd been too hasty… hadn't he? Bakugou had never _confessed_ to someone before but he was positive he hadn't done it right. The relief of finally saying the words aloud was dwarfed by his own uncertainty at her silence. He hadn't exactly expected her to return his feelings, not really. He barely understood them. It was stupid to expect her to get it when he was shit at putting them into words. Somewhere inside, he'd hoped she might, though... But she hadn't said _anything,_ and he couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

Aizawa was speaking again but Bakugou really couldn't hear him this time. He just stared out the window, watching the trees bend in the wind, blinking away the burning embarrassment in his eyes, wondering exactly what Uraraka might have said if she hadn't been interrupted.

Morning stretched to night before he could even grasp the time that had passed. Bakugou was bombarded with questions, reports, police, and pro heroes. The principal even came in for a visit at some point, although he'd lost track of exactly when that might have been. He gave him some boring speech, apologizing for his negligence and for UA's inadequacy. Bakugou hadn't known what to say— _he_ felt responsible for his capture, and he felt like UA had responded appropriately when their security system had been triggered. He couldn't look at it from any other perspective than his own. He didn't want their apologies or condolences or assurances. He just wanted to get the hell out of the hospital bed and go back to business as usual. At this point, he was just pissed off that he'd been gone for _days_ and that he'd have to take supplemental lessons to catch back up. That, and the fact that he'd still have to participate in the fucking Pro-Hero/Sidekick assignment in just over a week.

The thought of it made his head throb—how the fuck was he supposed to just continue working on this bullshit with Uraraka after his botched confession? It felt so small. So inconsequential in the grand scheme of everything. Bakugou understood the simple facts about the hero course—it was supposed to shape and mold him into what the world needed. Everything _technically_ had a purpose; everything was supposed to play a role in his journey to becoming a hero. He understood it but that didn't mean he had to fucking _like_ it. Especially if, in this case, that meant playing sidekick to the round-faced girl who had stayed horribly fucking quiet when he'd told her… how he _felt_.

He wasn't sure what filled him with more dread: Uraraka turning up to shoot him down and reject his idiocy once and for all, or the two of them continuing on as if nothing had ever happened in the first place.

As much as he wanted to be angry at her for saying nothing, he couldn't conjure up the feeling. Bakugou didn't know how he was supposed to feel. He hadn't been downright rejected. _Technically_. But… that brought up an entirely different, altogether more important question. What would have happened if she _had_ actually returned his feelings? Did that mean they were dating? Would that have made her his girlfriend? What was that supposed to entail? Their whole dynamic would have to change… wouldn't it? Was that what he wanted?

Bakugou groaned and slammed his head back into his pillow. This was making his head hurt.

Three heavy knocks sounded at his door but didn't bother waiting for him to respond. Eraser Head strolled in, hands in his pockets, looking as fucking exhausted as ever. Bakugou scowled at his teacher—he was too god damn tired for more questions. He wanted to work out the Uraraka bullshit in his brain before he jumped into another round of nonsense.

Aizawa didn't seem to care though; he sat down in the chair next to the hospital bed and sighed, "You'll be out of here tomorrow. Back in class the day after. Your supplemental lessons will start that evening."

It took literally _all_ his self-control to resist rolling his eyes. Even though he'd been gone for a few days it wouldn't make a difference—he was still one of the top students in 1-A. He didn't need supplemental lessons. He didn't need to catch up. He'd been ahead for weeks, anyway. It was a fucking waste of time, but he didn't bother disputing it this time around. The look in his teacher's eyes suggested it wouldn't make a difference.

"That it?" Bakugou grumbled, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice or on his face.

Aizawa was unfazed, though.

"No… I wanted to talk to you about this," He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. As his teacher unfolded it, he knew what it was. The report he'd given to the police about the villains. About what they said… about the traitor and the list of suspects.

Bakugou's throat felt dry but he shrugged, "They told me to tell 'em all the shit the villains said," His voice was softer than he'd intended it to be, "I don't believe a word of it." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

"There was a list," Aizawa said, all hesitation absent from his tone, "You _were_ on it. Before the summer training camp."

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. No luck.

"But we decided to remove your name, as well as the names of the other students in my class, as time went forward. It was an investigation, Bakugou, not a personal vendetta. Names were removed when evidence presented itself to counter suspicion."

Bakugou hadn't said shit about what he thought all of it meant. Not aloud. Not to anyone. But it felt like Eraser Head knew exactly what had been going through his head the whole time. It was like he was telling him that they didn't see him the way he thought they _might_ , not in the way the villains saw him. He didn't respond and his teacher continued as if he wasn't expecting him to.

"Also, I don't like liars," He shot him a sharp, knowing glare and sighed, "So, if you and Uraraka are foolish enough to break the rules _again_ , don't think I won't punish you to the extent of your fibbing," Then he stood, folding the report back up and shoving it into his pocket before walking to the door, "Get some rest. You'll both need it for the supplemental lessons I have planned for you."

Eraser Head was gone as quickly as he'd appeared.

Bakugou stared after him for a moment, unable to explain why he felt so much lighter. Things felt like they were falling back into place but—

 _Wait._

He'd said _"you'll both"_ need rest for supplemental classes… _both_. Oh, fuck. Bakugou's head spun.

"Shit…" He sighed. There was only one person he might be referring to. One person who might need some catch up for the assignment they'd been working on for weeks because of _his_ absence. His project partner. Uraraka Ochako.

He couldn't tell if he was excited or if he was dreading it. It was either extraordinarily good luck or unbearably bad luck. Even though he found himself uncharacteristically excited at the thought of having another excuse to spend _more_ time with his round-faced friend, this felt unlucky.

The two of them wouldn't be able to dance around feelings anymore—his heart twisted under his chest and his stomach churned anxiously…

The idea of not being able to predict the outcome set his teeth on edge.

This shit was endgame now. Acceptance or rejection. It was one or the other.

Bakugou would deal with all the details later— _one thing at a time._


	11. Closer

**A/N:** Chapter 13 is looking like it'll be the end-but we'll see how it goes.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own BNHA or any of its characters. Obviously.

* * *

 _Chapter Eleven: Closer_

[Day Nineteen]

[Uraraka]

Uraraka wasn't sure if she'd been thrown into an alternate reality or if she was stuck in some everchanging, emotionally grueling dream. It felt like her life at UA had suddenly developed a dark sense of humor. She'd spent _months_ practically pining after one of her best friends… but that anxious, almost nauseating euphoria that used to worm its way into her whole body whenever she was around Deku was gone. Completely absent. As if it had never existed in the first place. The admiration was still there, and she loved him—but not like _that_. It was the same way she loved Ilda or Tsu or her _parents_ , for crying out loud! She wanted to comfort Deku when he was hurting but she didn't want to be his one and only shoulder to lean on, she didn't want to hug him to her chest or stroke his cheeks or pet his hair… she didn't want to hold him. Not like she'd wanted to hold Bakugou…

 _"I like you but not like… a_ friend _, alright! I mean I fucking like you_ more _than that!"_

It had been… _almost_ impossible to stop herself from tackling her explosive friend with the biggest bear hug she could manage. She'd wanted to. She'd _really_ wanted to…

"But I didn't…" Uraraka placed her fingertips against her ceiling, cherishing the zero-gravity that consumed her. She'd woken up early to go for a morning run, but her racing thoughts had prevented her from getting out of bed. So, she resigned herself to floating around her dorm room instead.

 _Why didn't I?_

Honestly, she didn't know. She didn't think there was one definitive answer. Overall though, she figured it came down to three key elements: embarrassment, fear, and disbelief.

Uraraka had never dealt with a confession before—she didn't know _how_ to respond. He'd put her on the spot. Even if she'd been able to find her words before Aizawa had interrupted them, she had no idea what she might have said. She liked him too. She knew she did. But _saying_ it out loud was… impossible. Right?

She shook her head. _No._ That was a terrible excuse. Bakugou had found the courage to say those words aloud. She'd seen it on his face: the indecision, the embarrassment, the red-tinted cheeks… He'd put it all out there. _Loudly_. Even if he'd been afraid, he didn't let it stop him.

 _And I didn't say anything…_

She was torn between feeling like the biggest jerk who had ever lived and feeling like the worst friend to have ever walked the earth. Neither was preferable. Both would have been preventable if she hadn't run away…

In the moment, when he'd _said_ it… there was a part of her that simply couldn't believe him. Because it was crazy enough that _she_ liked _him_. The idea of him liking her back seemed impossible. That kind of thing didn't just happen. That stuff was reserved for adulthood or tv dramas or shoujo manga… not real life. Not _her_ life. But… that wasn't fair to him. Bakugou could be mean and brash and even downright intolerable at times but he didn't often lie. And he wasn't the kind of person to lie about something like this. He didn't stand to gain anything from toying with her feelings. Unfortunately, this all made a lot more sense with hindsight. Uraraka had once again made the mistake she'd promised herself she wouldn't make again—she'd failed to see his vulnerability. Even when he shed his mask and laid it all out right in front of her. He'd shown her one of the most vulnerable pieces of himself and she had _still_ failed to notice…

Uraraka frowned to herself.

That really raised an even more important question: _why_ the heck did he like her, anyway? Bakugou didn't seem like the affectionate type… Because he _wasn't_. Not really. But he still told her how he felt…

Uraraka hid her face in her hands and groaned, wishing her quirk allowed her to rewind time. She wouldn't have to speculate or wonder or question a single thing if she had just said something—anything—when he'd confessed to her in the first place. Her cheeks burned under her palms. _Confessed_. Bakugou Katsuki had _confessed_ to _her_. Her head was spinning. It still didn't feel real.

 _Focus, Ochako!_ She scolded herself, floating back down into her blankets before releasing her quirk. School was starting soon. She had to figure out what the heck was going on. She had to figure out what she was going to say. She wasn't sure if Bakugou would even be in class or not but if he was, she very well couldn't _avoid_ him. Not that she wanted to… She just didn't want him to get the wrong idea. She didn't want him to think she wasn't interested, to a certain degree. At the very least, she owed it to him to be honest and to tell him she liked him back… like _that_. As… _more_ than a friend. The way _he_ liked _her._

 _Oh my gosh…_ The heat in her cheeks spread through her entire body. This was no good. She couldn't keep herself focused or calm in the safety of her own room, how the heck was she supposed to go to school and act like everything was normal?

Uraraka knew she was dodging the most important part of all this. Beyond their mutual feelings… what was supposed to happen? They'd become friends during their short amount of time together, they were working on an assignment together as project partners, and they were going to take supplemental lessons together. What about… _after_? If they both liked each other did that mean they'd… _date_? She had no idea how all of this was supposed to work. She had never experienced any sort of romance that didn't revolve around fictional characters or blatantly one-sided feelings. According to tv dramas and the rules of anime, dating was required after confession… and it's not like she _didn't_ like the idea. Of dating Bakugou…

Wait, would she still call him Bakugou? Or would he let her call him Katsuki?

Wide eyed and sufficiently embarrassed at her inner monologue, she decided to try it out and test the strength of her heart even further. Out loud.

 _It's just a name…_ She reminded herself, thumbing at the pads of her fingers, _I can do this._

"… Katsuki."

 _Oh geez_ … if her faced burned any hotter, she'd set off the sprinkler system. Seriously. This was bad. There was no way, _no possible way_ , she could bring herself to say it to his face. Nope. No, no, no. Using his first name without the Bakugou attached to it would be impossible. Bakugou would have to stay Bakugou. Although, now even that name sent her stupid heart into a frenzy… Better yet, maybe she should just call him Lord Explosion Murder. That moniker didn't inspire any butterflies or burning blush. Besides, she couldn't imagine him being jazzed about being called by his first name. Kirishima was arguably the closest one to him and he still used his last name…

She almost gasped—he wouldn't want to call her Ochako, would he? Some of her friends called her by her first name but… it would be different if someone else did—if _Bakugou_ did. _No, no, no_ , she shook her head at herself and finally made her way out of bed. She was getting _way_ ahead of herself.

Eventually, Uraraka found herself downstairs in the common room with her friends, eating the hastily prepared breakfast she'd almost forgotten was her responsibility, still grossly underprepared for the school day. A quick glance around the room revealed that Bakugou was still absent. She wasn't sure if she was relieved that she had more time to mull over her thoughts or depressed that he was still hospitalized. Or both… definitely both.

She sighed—a huge mistake—and both Deku and Ilda looked up from their plates with concern obvious in their expressions. Damn her observant, intelligent friends…

"Uraraka, you need to finish your breakfast no matter how downtrodden you might feel!" Ilda's energy in the morning was always welcome and usually infectious. Today though, it made her feel worse. It reminded her that it _was_ a new day and that meant it had been more than 24 hours since Bakugou had… _confessed_.

Uraraka wondered if thinking those words, strung together in that order, would ever not be bewildering.

"Ilda's right," Deku said, setting down his second bowl of rice, "Besides, now that Kacchan is back, your training is gonna be way more intense. You'll need the energy."

She choked. The concern on their faces heightened.

"Ahh—y-you're right!" Uraraka conceded, a little too loudly, shoveling the entirety of her eggs into her mouth in a few bites, "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!" Now she was talking with her mouth full. _Very_ inconspicuous. _Kill me. Is it time to go yet?!_

Her friends shared a glance but Deku spoke first, "I'm sure it'll be fine—ah, Kacchan, I mean. I've been worried about him too, but things will go back to normal with him pretty quick, I bet."

She blinked, annoyed at her obviousness. _Of course_ , Deku immediately knew her demeanor was related to Bakugou. Time to deflect. She just nodded, "Oh, uh, sorry about breakfast, by the way! I woke up a little late, I didn't have time to make much."

This time Ilda spoke, one sharp eyebrow raised in curiosity, "Have you spoken to Bakugou yet? I assumed you went yesterday since he was allowed visitors."

"Hm? No! Oh… I mean, yeah, I did. H-he was all bandaged, but he seemed fine. I think? Um. We didn't talk though—well, I didn't. He talked. A bit… uh…"

 _"I like you but not like… a_ friend _, alright! I mean I fucking like you_ more _than that!"_

Uraraka felt the heat on her face again. She was blowing it. She was _beyond_ messing this up. It took all her restraint not to slap her hand over her mouth. So instead she moved onto her rice, barely bothering to chew as she shoved as much as she could manage into her mouth. She wasn't looking at them, but she saw their lingering looks in her periphery. Unfortunately for her, they weren't idiots. They knew something was going on and she wasn't sure if she had the energy to lie if either of them asked her outright. And she had to talk to Bakugou before she started spouting a whole bunch of stuff that he might not want everyone knowing.

Uraraka's only saving grace was the alarm that sounded on Ilda's phone, signaling that it was time for their departure. Thank goodness the class rep thrived on punctuality.

As the school day drew to a close, Uraraka's classmates made their way to the gym to work on their assignment. Aizawa had informed her that Bakugou was out of the hospital but he wouldn't be able to participate until tomorrow, which meant that she was down for the count too. According to her teacher, Bakugou had been escorted back to the dorms before class was dismissed. He suggested that she check on him once more and discuss their project before their classmates returned, which she had heartily agreed to in the moment.

Now though, she was walking as slowly as she could back to the dorms. Bakugou was there. _Alone_. And she had to talk to him—she _wanted_ to talk to him. But her nerves were on fire and her she swore that she could barely feel her legs. Why on earth was this so difficult? He'd already said the words. He'd taken the first step, the harder step… which meant that all she had to do was repeat the words back to him, right? There shouldn't be any fear of rejection, so _why_ was she so, _so_ nauseatingly nervous?! If she knew that he liked her then it should be super easy to walk in and stroll right up to him and tell him that she liked him too!

Uraraka gulped and stared at the entrance to the dorms for a little too long. Her eyes were glued to the door, but her feet refused to move. Maybe she wasn't cut out for all of this? Maybe she'd somehow misunderstood Bakugou's words? What if he changed his mind when she'd run away yesterday? What if he _hated_ her now? Or maybe he'd been tired and delirious, and he didn't remember? He _had_ just woken up from a drug-induced slumber. Maybe he didn't mean to say anything at all or… or maybe she'd imagined the whole thing? Excuses swirled through her head, tangling themselves together until even she knew she was being ridiculous. She could only sigh and stare a hole through the door.

Any resolve she might have had crumbled as her brain searched for any reason to avoid going inside. She squeezed her eyes shut and balled her hands into fists. She _had_ to do this… right? She couldn't just go inside and pretend like nothing had happened. That wasn't fair to Bakugou and it wasn't fair to her heart. Was this what romance was supposed to be? Hesitation, indecision, and embarrassment all rolled up into one frustrating emotion?

 _"That's_ your _strength, Uraraka. Your selflessness. Your heart. That's what makes you a hero."_

 _Right_. She thought, clenching her fists tighter. _I'm gonna be a hero!_ Heroes didn't back away from a challenge! This was _not_ exactly the challenge she'd been expecting to face so early on in her life but running away wasn't an option. She murmured a silent thank you to All Might and opened her eyes with renewed determination—

But the door was already open. Bakugou was leaning on the door frame, arms crossed, cardinal eyes appraising her face under a quirked eyebrow and familiar glower. He looked different somehow—had his hair always framed his face like that? Barely covering his eyes, hovering just perfectly at his brow… her stomach flipped, and she cursed herself. Thinking Bakugou was cute was just _asking_ to get blown up.

Uraraka wiped her suddenly sweaty hands along her skirt and tore her eyes away.

 _Romance is stupid._

"Baku—"

"I was worried I might have to take _you_ to the hospital if you didn't move soon, Round-face."

Uraraka tried to laugh but it came out more like a squeak, "Sorry…" She murmured, tucking her hair behind her ears.

He didn't respond right away, just stepped out of the way to let her inside.

It was hard to look at him now.

Bakugou closed the door behind her as she stepped through the threshold and then stalked past her, toward the kitchen. He was still wearing the majority of the bandages. His forearms and hands were still wrapped neatly and the square bandage on his forehead was still there, peeking through his spiky hair that fell onto his forehead. Uraraka remembered the feeling of it under her thumb. She smiled as she watched him disappear around the corner. She was nervous as hell, sure, but it felt so nice having him back in the dorms. Things were different now, but somehow it felt better than normal.

She had to tell him…

Uraraka made her way through the common room more timidly than she'd intended and peered into the kitchen where her explosive friend was brewing tea. Two mugs were on the counter next to him. She felt her smile widen.

Before she could open her mouth to speak, Bakugou beat her to it.

"Sit down, Round-face. There's tea," He called over his shoulder. Uraraka swore his ears were as red as his eyes.

He emerged from the kitchen with both cups as Uraraka sat at the table. He was talking again before he even set the drinks down.

"You remember a while back?" He grumbled, sitting across from her, "When you came into my room? When you woke me up…"

Uraraka nodded, unsure where he was going with his questioning, "From the dream?" She asked carefully, wrapping her hands around the warm mug.

"Nightmare." He corrected her, glaring into his tea.

"I remember…"

Bakugou sighed and the furrow in his brow deepened, "I kept dreaming about the fucking League," His voice was strained, "Every god damn night. It was fucking stupid. You know, they wanted me to join them," His mouth twisted in disgust and Uraraka almost stopped breathing as realization dawned on her—

Bakugou _wanted_ to share this with her. He'd brought it up, completely unwarranted. Uraraka had told herself that she would never ask because she knew he had a tendency to mistake concern for pity but… now he was telling her willingly, and her heart ached. At his actions and his words. He was choosing vulnerability with her _again_ … It was hard not to feel overwhelmingly special as she watched him struggle to pick the right words and push them out, no matter how uncomfortable it made him. Bakugou only did the things he wanted to do—if he could help it—which meant that telling her this was important to him.

"Obviously I told them to eat shit and die," He said with a shrug, "But it just _kept_ fucking with me—which is pathetic as _fuck_ , because I'm gonna be the number one _hero_ , not some shitty villain."

Uraraka smiled slightly and murmured, "Obviously."

He finally looked up at her, eyes wide for a split second, before that signature grin tugged at his face, "You're damn right."

She sipped at her tea and waited for him to continue.

"I don't fucking know if you just kept distracting me or what," He bristled, turning his narrowed gaze back to his drink, "But… they stopped. Mostly. The nightmares, the shitty _fucking_ voices…"

She frowned. This was new. It was… _serious_. She'd known that he was going through something but what he was describing sounded like _torment_. It took more effort than she'd expected to find her own voice again, "Voices?"

Bakugou nodded, "That fucking hands-guy. It was his voice. I just kept fucking thinking that if those assholes thought _I_ was like them, then… _everyone_ would fucking think like that eventually," He scoffed and she wasn't sure if it was directed at the villains or at himself, "But _you_ wouldn't fucking leave me alone. You kept _talking_ to me and pissing me off and listening to all the shit I kept saying. Like I was your fucking _coach_ or something… It was distracting and fucking _fun_ and…" Somehow, Bakugou managed to furrow his brow even more. Blush bloomed on his cheeks, softening his expression as he jerked his head to the side, "… Thanks."

Uraraka wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. It didn't feel right to say "you're welcome" because she hadn't done anything on purpose—everything she'd done, she'd technically done for herself. She had tried forcing her friendship with Bakugou because she thought it was the only way they'd be able to cooperate on their project… at first, she'd only wanted a way for the two of them to see eye to eye. But saying that to him wasn't quite right either. Bakugou knew she hadn't befriended him with the intent to help him deal with trauma and guilt. But he'd still thanked her anyway, so… maybe it didn't matter _why_ all of this had started in the first place. Maybe all that mattered was that it had worked out this way.

She smiled, "You don't have to thank me, dummy," She kept her voice as even as she could manage and ignored the tears that burned her eyes, threatening to overflow at any moment, "I'm… just happy I could help somehow."

Bakugou laughed, something akin to a smile on his bandaged face, and rolled his eyes, "Do you ever stop fucking crying, Round-face?"

"Hey!" She huffed, crossing her arms and shooting him a sharp look through blurry eyes, "You're ruining a beautiful moment, you know! I'm happy you're telling me this kind of stuff… _Excuse_ me for being emotional about something special!"

He was quiet for a minute, like he was trying to think of what to say—she could see it in his face. He was remembering the last time they spoke. His confession. The way she had run away... He was hesitating. Bakugou didn't often hesitate. He was staring at his tea again, his embarrassment tinting his cheeks and ears, bottom lip protruding just enough to look like he was pouting. It set her heart racing and she had to wipe her clammy hands on her skirt again. Had… he always been _cute_? Or was this something new? If the situation wasn't sufficiently awkward enough already, she might have laughed.

 _Right…_ Uraraka smiled to herself, she had almost forgotten why she'd been so nervous to talk to him in the first place. Now she was supposed to tell him how _she_ felt.

"Uraraka," His voice came out surprisingly stern before she could think of how to begin. She almost jumped at the sudden seriousness in his tone, "Tell me about Deku."

She blinked, "What? What about Deku?"

His eyes narrowed like his patience was already thin and realization hit her like a truck—

 _"Now, go running back to that damn nerd that you love_ so _much, and_ get away from me _!"_

"Oh," Uraraka frowned. She wasn't sure whether or not she should feel annoyed that Bakugou was on that train of thought, or embarrassed that he might be jealous… She'd come to the conclusion that she _did_ love Deku. But she wasn't _in_ love with him. She looked up to him just like she looked up to all her favorite heroes, she admired him, and she hoped to be as strong as he was one day but… she couldn't bring herself to think about him beyond that _friends_ sort of way. She wasn't sure what had changed, but she wasn't sure Bakugou would like that answer. She wasn't sure if he'd accept it. But that was the only explanation she had. She'd figured out how to untangle the Deku mess in her head; it was the knot _Bakugou_ had tied under her chest that was causing her turmoil these days, "He's my friend, and I really admire him," She finally said carefully, unsure how she was supposed to explain it all, "I think everyone's gotten the wrong idea, actually…"

Bakugou was staring. Studying. His cardinal eyes unreadable. He leaned forward on the table, holding his chin in his palm, and gave her a smile that made her frown deepen—it was _so_ fake. It was sad. Defeated. Her chest tightened. The look on his face and his silence suggested he accepted her words for what they were, but his stupid fake smile gave him away. He didn't believe her. _That's not fair._ He might not say it aloud, but she _saw_ it and suddenly she was fuming. Bakugou acted all smart and mighty all the time but the truth of it was that he was a giant idiot! He actually _was_ stupid!

Uraraka slammed both of her hands on the table between them, ignoring the rattling of the mugs and his annoyed expression, "I _don't_ like Deku, _idiot_! Maybe I did before… I don't know! But you asked me today and my answer is _no_. Deku means a lot to me—but not like _that_!" She took a deep breath, hoping that her frustration might get through to him, but his expression suggested otherwise. "Don't give me that look!"

He wasn't smiling anymore— _good_. She didn't want to see any of those fake expressions on his face. She'd rather have a pissed off Bakugou _any_ day of the week than whatever one had been looking at her a moment ago.

They were sitting eye to eye but his glower was intimidating enough to make her feel half his size, "You should see yourself around that shitty mop," He growled but his voice was missing the obvious anger he might have shown a few short weeks ago. The tone was different now—it was indecisive. Unsure. He was upset, but it wasn't rage right under the surface. She didn't know exactly what it was, but she had a few guesses.

This was getting _stupid_. She'd given him a straight answer about Deku but he was just sitting there all jealous and grumpy, "If you weren't gonna believe me, why'd you even _ask_?" Her voice was practically a shout as she stood from her chair, "It's like you don't want to believe me!"

"Because!" He shouted back, rising to his feet, "Because I-I fucking spilled my guts yesterday like an asshole and you _ran away_ from me!" Bakugou's voice trailed off towards the end. He hadn't bothered to hide the hurt this time around, "I don't even know what the fuck I want you to say…"

Uraraka stared at him. Guilt swelled in her heart, weighing her shoulders down. Why was it so hard to just _say_ what he had already said? There was no fear of rejection—so what the heck was she so afraid of?

"Alright listen up—" Bakugou growled above her, renewed resolve heavy in his voice, "I'm only gonna say this shit _one_ more time. I really fucking like you, alright? Don't ask me _why_ , because I don't fucking get any of this shit, but… If you're gonna reject me, then get it over with already," His cheeks might have been even redder than his eyes at this point but his voice never faltered, "Shit can just go back to whatever the hell it was before, if that's what you want."

Uraraka's whole body felt light, like she'd activated her quirk at some point, but her feet were still planted firmly on the ground. She could feel herself smiling like a fool. She wondered what he thought of that. Bakugou Katsuki was like a walking contradiction. He was practically demanding an answer out of her, but he was still being _considerate._ Or, at least, Bakugou's version of considerate. Even though she'd retreated from his first confession, he was still giving her an out if she wanted it… she _didn't_ , but it was uncharacteristically… mature?

"You know," Uraraka wasn't sure why, but her words came to her easily now and she laughed once, mostly at herself, "I don't really want stuff to go back to how it was _before_ …"

Bakugou's brow furrowed, like he was trying to decipher her words, and she pushed herself onward despite the shakiness of her hands and the heat in her chest.

"Because I… like you too, you know…" She gulped and cast her eyes downward, back to her untouched cup of tea. It felt silly, honestly. The nervousness. He'd gone and confessed first, opened himself up for rejection, and put every single one of his cards on the table. Returning his feelings should be easy in comparison to what he'd done… but she'd never told anyone that she'd liked them before. This was a first. And it was an absolutely mortifying first. But Bakugou had become someone she never had to hold her tongue around, someone who she could always be her genuine self around—and not only had he accepted it, albeit begrudgingly at first, but he _liked_ it. He liked _her._ He'd said so.

"Oh."

Uraraka practically choked on her own laughter and lifted her gaze to look back at her project-partner. Bakugou was standing there, still as stone, fingers outstretched like he wasn't sure what to do with his hands. He was _surprised_ —eyes wider than she'd ever seen them, frozen in unadulterated shock.

"You're… surprised?" She managed between undeserved fits of giggles, almost doubling over when he finally seemed to realize she was laughing _at_ him, and his expression immediately morphed into a defensive scowl. She might have found it intimidating a few weeks ago—but the embarrassment on his cheeks was the furthest thing from. It made her laugh harder.

"Shut up, Round-face! You got a death wish or something?!"

Uraraka grinned wider than she thought possible, wondering if the weirdly light, almost nauseating feeling in her stomach would ever cease. It was distracting enough that she almost forgot about all the things that were supposed to come after this part.

 _Almost_.

But once again, before she could even open her mouth, Bakugou beat her to the punch like he could read her mind.

"I, uh… don't really know what the hell we're supposed to do now…" He looked uncharacteristically bashful, so much so that she almost started laughing again. Bakugou didn't say it aloud, but the look on his face positively screamed: _I didn't think I'd get this far._

Uraraka shifted on her heels; she had no idea either. The only reference she had was tv dramas, or cutesy manga—and they all led to the same outcome no matter what had happened on the route to get there… The characters starting dating. Which often opened up an entirely new set of problems before the characters either got their happy endings or ended up breaking it off.

Uraraka pursed her lips and glanced over at Bakugou, who was half-glowering at her, probably because of her stretching silence. The redness on his face had settled a bit, but his ears were still bright where they peeked out from under his unruly hair…

Would it be weird to date Bakugou? It would definitely be… _different_. But if neither of them had experience in that area, then couldn't they make up their own rules on the matter? Things wouldn't have to change if they didn't want them to… right? She certainly didn't want Bakugou to act any different just because he liked her. And she would bet the entirety of her meager savings account that he wouldn't want her to transform into some lovey-girlfriend-type.

Uraraka couldn't help but imagine the two of them, as they were now, just maybe a little bit… _closer_? That wouldn't be very different… just different _enough._ And it would be stupid to deny just how aware of him she'd become over the past few weeks, especially since the confession, especially _today_. She swallowed hard at the thought—that would be fine, right? Not weirdly different enough to throw Bakugou off or drive him away. She often flip-flopped on exactly what it was that she wanted out of her life but… If Uraraka knew _anything_ about what she wanted right now, in this moment… it was _Bakugou_ …

Uraraka cleared her throat. Bakugou had taken the hardest steps and told her how he felt first, so now it was her responsibility to take some initiative.

 _Sound confident_ , she reminded herself, "People usually, um, _date_ … if they both like each other, you know? Uh, if they both _want_ to… I guess…"

It took all her energy to resist slapping herself in the face. _Very confident_ , she scolded.

The heat was back on her face in an instant— _holy hell_ , this kind of thing was difficult… How did Bakugou ever find the strength to straight up confess? His lack of a response now though, felt like a kick to the gut. Was he thinking it over? Honestly, it felt kind of weird. Were there people out there who confessed to the person they liked without the intention of dating them afterward? Was… that what _he_ had done? From his response to her reciprocation of feelings earlier, maybe he honestly hadn't thought that she might like him back. If that was the case, maybe he really had no intention of dating her…?

 _No._ Uraraka scolded herself again. She was getting carried away by her own thoughts, overthinking things to the extreme without regard for whatever Bakugou was thinking. She'd been unfair enough to his feelings. There was no reason to be afraid—no, not just that, Uraraka _refused_ to be afraid. This was the time to put all her cards on the table. She knew what she wanted. And he deserved her unfiltered, unchecked feelings, just like he'd given her.

 _Say it, Ochako!_

Uraraka groaned and made her way to Bakugou's side of the table, slapping both of her burning cheeks before looking up to meet his wide eyes, and freshly reddened face. This was it. All the cards needed to get put onto the table—no more dancing around how she felt, no more hiding from rejection. Uraraka stood up as straight as she could manage and even though she was the one that closed the distance between them, it was hard not to stammer at their newfound proximity. "What I mean is… d-date me!" She practically shouted, only slightly louder than the frantic heartbeat hammering under her chest, "Date me, Bakugou… K-Katsuki!"

"W-what the fuck, Uraraka…"

She only caught a glimpse of the embarrassment on his face as it reached historic proportions before his bandaged hand snapped between them to cover her eyes and shield himself from her gaze. It was impossible to fight the grin she felt pulling at her lips—catching Bakugou off guard might be her new favorite pastime.

"You're _so_ fucking weird." He let out a heavy sigh, like he was at his wit's end, but she could hear the smile in his voice—he had no intention of turning her down.

Uraraka shrugged but didn't shake his hand from her face. She grinned wider.

"Stop smiling like that. You're creeping me out."

She rolled her eyes even though he couldn't see it, "Do you… need me to ask again?" She offered.

"When the hell did you get so fucking cheeky—"

"Ba-ku-gou—," She stretched out each syllable, wondering how annoying she could be before he finally acknowledged her proposal or got honestly irritated, "If you're gonna reject me, then get it over with already!"

"Fine," His voice was a growl, closer than it had been before, but he didn't remove his hand from her eyes, "Ask one more time."

Uraraka felt her resolve crack the tiniest bit at his tone and her blindness to the situation. A few days ago, she probably wouldn't have thought much of it, but now her imagination threatened to run wild. With a gulp, she tried steeling herself, but she knew she was going to sound exponentially less confident than the first time she'd said it, "D-date me, Bakugou Katsuki…?"

It had been a statement before, belted out in overwhelming false confidence, but this time she truly _asked_. Mostly because _this time_ she could feel Bakugou's fingertips pressed gently against her face, and the explosive boy was somewhere in the darkness in front of her, with some weird, mischievous tone to his voice. What was he planning? Was he gonna try to kiss her or something—

Uraraka nearly slapped her project partner's hand away the instant the thought crossed her mind. But she couldn't feel her hands as the nervousness overtook her body. Moving would be impossible at the moment. There… there was no way, right? She had just been telling herself not too long ago that Bakugou wasn't the affectionate type, so… why on earth would she think he'd try to _kiss_ her? He hadn't even told her outright if he wanted to date her yet—kissing was out of the question!

Still, it felt like every nerve ending in her body was on high alert as her blush pooled in her cheeks at her unruly imagination. She was acutely aware of his touch and of his weight shifting somewhere in the blackness, but she practically jumped out of her own skin when she felt the unmistakable sharpness of his spikey hair brush against her brow before he pressed his forehead squarely to hers, and finally spoke.

"You're fucking weird, Uraraka," Bakugou's voice was closer than it had ever been before; she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. She was certain the blood that had gathered in her face from this unforeseen turn of events would burn him any moment now.

"I-is that a yes, or…?" She breathed, wondering if it was possible to have a heart attack from sheer embarrassment, as his nose brushed against hers.

"O-obviously, it's a fucking yes, _idiot_ ," He seethed, albeit quietly, "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to interrupt people?"

Uraraka laughed, "That's rich coming from _you,_ you know."

Some mixture of relief and joy flooded through her, heightening the warmth in her stomach— _how very Bakugou_ _of him_. Uraraka found herself grinning again, and she leaned against his forehead. She wondered how close the rest of him was… if she reached out, would she catch him? This meant they were… _dating_ now, right? Uraraka couldn't tell if she was giddy or absolutely mortified at the prospect, but she tried not to let the absurdity of that overwhelm her for now. There was still the matter of their closeness to tackle… it was nice. It was _super_ freaking embarrassing, but something about it felt right… and she couldn't help but wonder what they might look like from the outside, or what someone might think if they walked into the common room right now. They were technically dating now so… maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he—

Bakugou cleared his throat and took one large step back so quickly that Uraraka really thought that he might have heard her thoughts—at least until she heard the front door clicking open, accompanied by the loud voices of their classmates as they began filing into the dorm.

Suddenly, panic overrode all the other emotions Uraraka had been floating on up until now and smothered her remaining euphoria. Bakugou was redder than a tomato—she assumed she didn't look much better either. They might have confessed to each other and agreed on the whole _dating_ thing, but neither of them had set any ground rules. Perhaps the most important one being whether or not they were telling their classmates…

 _Oh my god…_ Uraraka's eyes widened as realization truly dawned on her. She glanced over at the profile of her project partner, turned friend, turned _boyfriend_ , as he picked up their practically untouched cups of tea and stalked into the kitchen before their classmates could make their way to them.

It didn't feel real. If it weren't for the warmth on her forehead, and the tingling his fingertips had left behind on her face, she probably would have thought she was dreaming.

 _I'm dating Bakugou Katsuki…_


End file.
